Shards of a Diamond
by Emerald Riddle
Summary: Harry Potter is having the worst summer of his life, Draco Malfoy is having the most eventful. Plots in plots, murder, revenge, rape, abuse, and suicide all take part in their lives. Can love make an appearance, also? HPxDM HIATUS!
1. Draco's Summer

**Shards of a Diamond**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, just this story.**

**Chapter One: Draco's Summer**

_Nothing from nowhere, I'm no one at all. __Radiate._

_Recognize one silent call as we all Form one darkflame.  
_

_Love your hate, your faith lost.  
_

_You are now one of us._-AFI, Miseria Cantare

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat in his father's abandoned study. He smelled suspiciously of fire whiskey but the only proof was the empty bottle at his feet. Somewhere in an above room Narcissa Malfoy's voice bore into his brain. 

"Where is that brat of mine? Well?"

Chi Chi, the family house elf's squeak was audible. "Chi Chi is not knowing, Mistress! He is just leaving out of his room a few hours ago!"

"You lying little tart! I know you're trying to protect him! Lead me to him now," Narcissa screamed at the cowering elf.

_Seems like I'm not the only one who's been drinking_, Draco thought before snickering thickly.

Suddenly there was pounding at the door. "Draco! DRACO, OPEN THIS DOOR YOU LITTLE GODDAMNED POUF!"

Even though he was terribly drunk, Draco flinched slightly. There was a crash at the door and Narcissa strode in quickly. "You little bastard (Draco flinched again), you know I was looking for you. Now you are going to clean the house with Key Key so it's sparkling when the Parkinson's come!"

The young boy chuckled drunkenly at his mother.

"What is it you're laughing at?" She shot at him.

"You called Chi Chi, Key Key," he got out before doubling over.

_**CRACK!**_

Narcissa slapped him across the face and marched out of the room. Her shrill, angry voice carried from the hall, "You better clean everything perfectly or you will have to sit through the Cruciatus all night!"

The gray eyed boy rubbed his face and giggled. "Chi Key, where are you?" he sang.

* * *

Chi Chi scrubbed the floor with the tattered rag Narcissa gave her. Draco was at her side fuming at the injustice of having to clean like a common servant. Now that he was sober (Chi Chi had given him a sobering potion) he realized what his mother wanted him to do. She even found it helpful to scream out the consequences everytime he made a snide remark. 

As soon as Draco had gotten home for the summer he noticed an immediate change in his mother. His mother who was always smooth, cool, and classy in public, yet affectionate and motherly in the privacy of their home had changed. She drank, she yelled, she sat alone in her room at times and just cried. While she drank she was always angry at her son, always telling him "it" was all his fault.

As always, young Draco Malfoy believed his parent. Lucius was in Azkaban and it was all his fault. He could have stopped it from happening if he stopped Potter; stopped his friends, his followers. But no, he let them escape and imprison his father.

Scrubbing the floor in self-disgust, he stopped a moment. Why should I blame myself when it's all Potter's fault? _It's always his damn fault,_ Draco seethed.

_He'll pay for what he's done to my family._

Then the teenager got up and told Chi Chi he was getting a drink. Merlin knows he needed it.

"Where do you think you are going, Draco? You haven't finished cleaning and the Parkinson's are coming tomorrow."

"Mother, the kitchen and the rest of the house is spotlessly clean. I don't see any use of cleaning it anymore."

Narcissa sent him a death glare. "Fine. Let your future wife see that you live in your own filth. It will no doubt shed some light on your complete slothfulness." Her voice was soft but felt as if she was cutting him with a knife.

No matter how many times she screamed, belittled, and hit him, Draco always felt a deep pang of sorrow everytime she spoke like that to him. All because his damn father went to Azkaban because of Potter. All because of the damn bottles of alcohol she drowned herself in daily.

_Potter is going to die because of this,_ Draco swore. He'd kill some part of him, if not physical, this year. No matter what he had to do to get it.

After grabbing a bottle from a cabinet, he forced himself to stop thinking and just sit in his room, downing shots of wizard vodka. Self-pity and anguish was heavy in the air that night in Malfoy Manor.

* * *

The next morning Draco found Chi Chi hovering over him with a worried look on her green face. 

"Is Master Draco all right? Master looks ill," her high voice said worriedly.

"I'm fi-" Nausea suddenly engulfed him. The next moment he was kneeling in front of the toilet retching.

When he walked out of the bathroom he was grasping at a throbbing pain in his head. Accepting the sobering potion Chi Chi gave him, he went to go back to sleep. He looked in the bathroom mirror before and looked like a vampire. Translucent, pale skin with dark bruises under his eyes.

But as he curled under the covers and closed his eyes, he found that, no matter how groggy he felt, his mind refused to sleep. Damning the curse that is waking up, he took a cold shower instead.

Hours seemed to pass extremely slowly on this particular day. Draco wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. He felt no real joy in seeing Pansy or her perfect family again. Yet, it was almost a relief to hear the loud magical door bell ring. Perhaps he just missed contact with others his age? This was a possibility, though a nagging feeling in his stomach thought different. After all, he never especially liked people his own age more than others. It was hard to find anyone he liked at all.

Draco strolled down the stairs to see his mother (sober) in elegant dress robes and sending Chi Chi to open the door. She followed slowly, gracefully, flicking up her nose in the process. It was as if she had not changed at all.

Draco suddenly had an idea why he wanted to see other wizards so badly.

"Hello, Draco," Pansy greeted at the door, her eyes glowing with happiness.

Draco looked her over and noted her expensive looking pink dress robes and smiled charmingly at her. "Hello, Pansy dearest. How have you been? I missed you greatly." He took her hand and bowed his head slightly to kiss it. Noting the chunky rings on her fingers.

Draco smiled wider.

The Parkinson's and the two remaining Malfoy's then walked over to the large dining room. Pansy sat across from the youngest Malfoy; she was beaming and fluttering her long eyelashes flirtatiously. It was all he could do not sneer nastily in her face.

Narcissa engaged in conversation with Adonis Parkinson; Pansy's father. With a melodic giggle she touched his hand from time to time. Adonis was as smooth as ever with his dark good looks and accepted her flirting with ease. Primula was oblivious, her bony hands lifting her wine to her lips occasionally when she had no comments to make on the conversation.

Draco again turned his attention to the female across from him. Icy blue eyes flashing with happiness, Pansy was talking nonstop about shopping.

"Oh, and I bought this just darling necklace, Drakie! I can't wait to wear it with my new dress robes..."

Draco tuned out. Like he cared about how cute her chunky necklace was. Or how the frills in her new dress robes matched it _perfectly._ How did his parents get off, making him marry this boring wench? Even that mudblood Granger didn't talk about shopping all day! Then again, he didn't know what she talked about at all. Though, therewas a pretty good chance it wasabout his carefully planned demise.

That's still more interesting than shopping.

The blond yapped on as he studied her parents. Her mother, Primula, looked remarkably like Pansy. She had light blond hair, just a couple shades darker than Draco's, icy blue eyes, and the infamous pug nose Pansy was known by. Adonis, on the other hand, had only a subtle likeness of his daughter. He was extremely handsome with dark, calculating eyes, and glossy black hair thrown over his lightly tanned skin. He and his daughter had the same pouty lips, which begged to be kissed. Her mother had thin, stern ones. Draco could also see they had similar bone structure. Primula was really thin and bony, while still looking beautiful. Adonis and his daughter were slim with gracefully long limbs.

Did Pansy get good luck, or what?

Adonis was looking right into Draco's eyes. Draco started. He had been staring. Blushing and looking away, he settled for listening about the latest fashions in the wizarding world.

* * *

The weeks of July passed slowly. Pansy and her family visited occasionally, making Draco feel he had hope to survive this summer. Narcissa was horrible. When she wasn't drinking she was depressed and quiet; when she was, she was angry and abusive. Only when Adonis came did she seem to be happy. 

Draco just tried his best to stay out of her way and do what she said. It was much easier than being hexed into oblivion. Though she hadn't actually cursed him yet, she certainly would if he got her furious enough.

Since there wasn't much else to do, Draco just sat in his room drinking or doing homework. Sometimes a fellow Slytherin sent him an owl speaking of their summer and what they've been doing. Being bored out of his mind didn't stifle Draco's prideone bit. Surely, they would know if he responded too fast that he was had nothing else to do.

So he waited a few days before owling them on his exploits in France, Germany, and with Pansy. All lies, of course; but his house mates needn't know that, now did they?

But one day a different kind of owl came. Pitch black, with a razor sharp beak and red, beady eyes. This was no ordinary eagle owl. The parchment clutched in it's large, needle like claws fell onto his desk and the owl stayed. Watching him. Waiting. Draco picked up the scroll and untied the shiny black ribbon sealing it. A sudden gasp escaped his lips when he read the swirly, elegant writing.

_**Draco,**_

_**I am writing you tonight to ask that you and your mother come and see me. The ribbon sealing this letter is a portkey that will activate around eight o'clock. Oh, and do be careful. My portkeys tend to be quite venomous. Especially to those that are not supposed to be handling it.**_

Draco just sat there; staring at the letter. Even though there wasn't a name, it was obvious who it was from. The Dark Lord wanted Draco to see him, but why? Was it about his father? Had he been freed? Or... or was it something else?

Draco felt a wave of panic.

What if he was to receive the mark today? What if he had to give up school and go join You-Know-Who? The panic grew. Draco wanted to join Voldemort, but not so soon! He wanted to finish his education, to train more, to take advantage of his last years of freedom!

_**Hissssss!**_

"What the Hell was that?"

Draco turned his eyes to the source of the noise, and dropped the letter at his feet. There, where he had left the black ribbon a moment ago, was a small, black snake.

"BloodymotherfuckingHell."

The snake then looked as if it was amused by his reaction and flicked out it's forked tongue for good measure. Draco was never one to admit he feared something; but anything that could even be remotely dangerous scared him out of his wits. Draco Malfoy was no Gryffindor.

Thank Merlin for that.

Flicking it's tongue out once more, the snake slithered to the edge of his desk. It's pale eyes glittered maliciously, giving Draco a sense of unease.

"Erm... Uh, you wouldn't go and bite me, right? I mean, heh, the Dark Lord wouldn't want you to go around biting people he summons, now would he?"

A soft hiss was his reply.

"Yeah, Potter would be the one who could speak Parseltongue. Fucking bastard."

Right then Draco could've sworn the damn thing smirked.

_Oh, yeah. Snakes can smirk. Sure Draco, you just go on believing that. I always knew you were a nutter._

"I figured out I was a nutter when I started talking to myself," he muttered under his breath angrily.

"Draco, who are you speaking to? There better not be anybody in there!"

"Mother, who would be crazy enough to come into my room when you're home? Surely, you realize that is pure madness? I pity the poor fool that dares come into this house under their own free will," he replied, feeling decidedly bitter.

Just as Draco knew it would, the door crashed open. When his mother raised her hand to deliver a slap, he ducked and swiped the letter off the ground. Narcissa spun around only to find the piece of parchment shoved under her nose.

Without even questioning her son, she read it quickly. Then again, and again, and again. "I assume you remember how to read, mother?" Draco asked stiffly. He didn't like the odd blankness in her eyes each time they finished the short paragraph.

"What time is it, Draco?" She merely asked. Narcissa's voice was soft and Draco was reminded of the days when she gave him comforting hugs and sang him lullabies.

"Draco?" She asked, sharper this time.

Scolding himself, Draco looked over to the large grandfather clock across the room. It wasfifteen minutesto eight. Seven forty-five. They only had fifteen minutes to get ready. All of this didn't seem to want to be absorbed in Draco's mind. So he just stood there, dumbfounded, and stared at the clock.

Narcissa followed his gaze and inhaled sharply. The cutting insults were dimly registered, but the clock stayed in his full attention.

_Tick, tick, tick. Tock, tock, tock. With one curse you'll **drop, drop, drop.**_

A sudden, sharp pain shot from the side of Draco's face. Thankful for once of his mother's abuse, he ran off into his bathroom to change his clothes.

* * *

"Draco, Narcissa, I am pleased you have made the trip safely." The Dark Lord's voice was cruel and malignant. Even his condescending laugh made Draco shudder. 

To her son's utter horror, Narcissa knelt to her knees and whispered, "My Lord, dominus..." in such a way that made him want to gag. Dominus, he knew,was Latin. What made it even worse was that the Dark Lord acknowledged her with a simple "Servus" (meaning slave or servant).

"Welcome, Draco. I know you both have..." he examined them closely, "very busy lives, but Wormtail had a rather attractive idea for once." He looked speculative after that. The two Malfoy's dared not urge him on for fear of getting on his unfavorable side.

He shifted his attention on Draco again. "Mister Malfoy, I was wondering if you would like to become my apprentice."

* * *

**A/N 6/19/05: I'm editing this whole story to look it's very best. I'm also fixing a few things here and there that just don't look or sound right ;) Enjoy!**

**A/N 6/30/05: Re-edited due to my BETA's advice ;) Thanks Jadzia!**


	2. Harry's Summer

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter Two: Harry's Summer**

_Every night I walk the streets,  
Awake while everyone else sleeps.  
I'm giving unease to anyone I meet.  
_-AFI, Advances In Modern Technology

* * *

A boy, about sixteen, with messy raven black hair and startling green eyesran down the streets of Surrey. His face was long, thin, and he had the appearance of one who hadn't eaten or slept in days. The baggy, worn clothes he was dressed in made him look even skinnier than he already was. His once sparkling emerald eyes seemed dull and emotionless. But the most interesting thing about him was the scar on his forehead. It was in the shape of a lightening bolt and looked as if it had been gotten recently. 

Of course, everyone in the wizarding world knew this was false. And everyone in the wizarding world knew who Harry James Potter was. Or at least they thought they did. The Harry Potter they knew wouldn't be in a muggle neighborhood in the dark of night, nor would he be running from a gang of his cousin's friends.

"Hey Harry, where are you going? Haven't you missed us?" A scoffing voice asked. Last summer, Harry would have been tempted to curse them into oblivion, right in Dudley's face. But his cousin wasn't here this time to shield either party from being hexed or beaten. The overweight boy was in the Dursley's living room, shoveling food in his mouth with his piggy little eyes fixed on the television screen.

With that mental image Harry didn't know whether to laugh or gag. As it was, he couldn't do either. Dudley's gang didn't seem to be getting tired; block after block, fence after fence, they never even hesitated in their "Harry hunting". Now, after almost thirty minutes of this, Harry could barely breathe. Not eating and sleeping for the past few days were definitely taking toll on his body. The stitch in his side was becoming unbearably painful. His lungs felt constricted and the sweat on his brow dripped into his eyes.

It was getting harder to see with the salty liquid in his eyes and the black spots that were starting to form. The drunken pack behind him got louder and more excited as he slowed down to inhale deeply. Crisp green lawns and identical neat houses in rows. It was all he could see. Harry's sight began getting blurry and he could no longer make out the golden numbers identifying each home.

All I need is to get to the Dursley's or Mrs. Figg's house. That way, they'll leave me alone until I can threaten Dudley into controlling them.

"HARRY! C'mon, buddy. We don't want to hurt you!" Harry knew this was a matter of opinion, since the group suddenly burst out laughing.

A need to get somewhere safe overwhelmed him. Harry squared his shoulders and concentrated his vision. To his relief, Mrs. Figg's place was only two houses away. It took all the strength he owned, but Harry forced himself to trot weakly to her door and tried to ignore the sudden silence that came upon the street. If those bastards even TRY to touch me I swear I'll curse their heads straight up their-

A hand came out of nowhere and covered his mouth tightly. Another pulled the arm he was about to press the doorbell with behind his back. Piers Polkiss's face grinned into his, "Hello there, Harry," he said in an odd voice. Harry grimaced as the smell of alcohol and cigarettes attacked his face. That has to be the most disgusting smell in the world, he thought, grimacing.

Struggling seemed useless against several boys bigger and stronger then himself. Yet, he did it anyway. Screaming seemed useless with a hand pressed firmly against his lips. Yet, he did it anyway. Trying to catch Mrs. Figg's attention when he was being dragged away into her hedges seemed useless. So he gave up and took it.

Pain rained down on him instantly, he couldn't even tell where it was coming from. Was it Kevin's sharp kicks in his sides, or was it Benny's fat fists banging on the sides of his head? Piers must've gagged him because no matter how hard he tried- he couldn't yell out. Harry's senses dulled considerably, he no longer could figure out if they were even hitting him anymore.

Numbness seemed to spread and Harry knew he could stop all this if he tried. His wand was in his back pocket (to Mad-Eye Moody's dismay, surely). There was bound to be a guard somewhere... but where were they? Didn't they know he needed help? A part of his mind was buzzing in accusations:

_You snuck away from the guard. You've gotten yourself into this mess. You were spoiling for a fight all year. Anyway, you deserve it._

"No..." Harry whispered, "I don't..."

_You killed Sirius. You deserve it. You. Deserve. It. How far are you going to go, Potter? Kill Ron, Hermione? How about Dumbledore? You sure seemed angry at him that day. Maybe you should just present yourself to Voldemort. He'll be glad to stop your little killing spree._

"Maybe I should..." Harry rasped into the gag.

Fortunately, the boys ignored him and resumed their beating. A light flicked on in Mrs. Figg's living room and her voice yelled out to them. "What's going on out there? Don't you know what time it is?"

Dudley's gang froze. Harry, however, took advantage of the opportunity and gave a strangled cry, which followed with coughing from his aching chest. Figg's face immediately showed in her window. She glared at the lot of them, then noticed the battered Harry at their feet. Her eyes widened in understanding.

"That's it! I'm calling the police!" She scurried in the other direction screaming angrily about hoodlums.

The boys circling ran off, all except for Piers Polkiss. The rat like, wiry teenager leaned in close to Harry's gagged and bruised face, and did the thing not even a Seer would've predicted. Piers kissed him on the nose with a peculiar, malevolent gleam in his eyes. That was the last shock Harry James Potter could take, and promptly passed out in Mrs. Figg's hedges. He completely missed the elderly woman in the corner, gaping like a fish.

* * *

_Harry Potter glanced at his surroundings. Everything was in dark shades of gray. Something in the back of hismind told him not to make a sound; to leave. Fast. But how can you leave a place you have no recollection of entering?_

_"How did I get here?" Harry whispered softly to himself._

_The hairs on the back of his neck stood up while an strange sense of Deja Vu overwhelmed him. Cold dark floors, musty smelling walls... but it couldn't be! Harry started running. Thump. Thump. Thump. Was that his heart, or his footsteps? Surely, they were loud enough for everyone to hear._

_In what seemed like an eternity a corner finally appeared in the hallway. Harry hurriedly turned and stopped dead in his tracks. Doors... doors._

_How many were there? He didn't stop to count. Instead, he walked straight ahead and reached for the door knob._

_"No..." Harry's mind moaned. "Not there! Don't go in there!"_

_His hands seemed to have a life of their own. No matter how hard he wanted to pull away, get away from that door, they just kept reaching. All too soon, the skinny fingers were closing their grip on the handle- only, there was no handle._

_The door knob melted at the contact of Harry's skin. Alarmed, he jerked his arm back, realizing he had gain control of it again. Silver liquid dripped from his fingers. It looked startlingly like Unicorn blood. Harry suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Then there was a cold sensation flowing into his shoes, into his socks, and right into his toes._

_The day just didn't want to stop torturing him, it seemed. A dark gray substance was now in a pool where the door had been. Standing in it were a pair of familiar black boots. Though Harry didn't dare take his eyes off the syrupy liquid, a few seconds later he wish he had. In the pool's reflection showed a man's face. A face which had the look of being once handsome, but presently was haunted, tired, and wasted._

_Sirius Black looked back at Harry Potter._

_"Why did you kill me, Harry?" Sirius asked sorrowfully, his gray eyes blinking mournfully._

_Harry screamed._

_

* * *

_

"Potter!" A stern voice exclaimed angrily.

_Who's that? Where am I?_

A large, hooked nose and beetle black eyes clouded Harry's vision. Once again, Harry screamed. Severus Snape looked down at him in disgust.

"And you are supposed to be a Gryffindor," he snarled.

"Severus, leave him be. He's had a hard night."

Harry recognized the voice as Dumbledore's and lifted his head up painfully. "Hullo, Headmaster."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled slightly. "Hello, Harry. How are you? You had us worried sick."

Snape snorted disdainfully.

Everything still seemed blurry. "Headmaster," Harry hesitated. "Did you happen to see my glasses anywhere?"

"Ah, I am so sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Potter, but they were gone when Mrs. Figg found you." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps it was time you bought a new pair, anyway."

Snape just lingered in a dark corner, his black eyes watching the exchange carefully. "Gone...?" Harry repeated stupidly. He had that pair of glasses as long as he could remember. The Dursley's where forced to get his eyes checked when he complained about not being able to see clearly at school. Of course, they bought him the ugliest, cheapest pair.

"I think that is unnecessary, Albus," Snape's silky voice said. "I am able to concoct a sight improving potion. Having glasses can be hazardous in a fight against the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, yes. Good idea, Severus. But Mr. Potter needs a way to see until then. A charm will have to do for now, I think."

The Headmaster pointed his wand right between Harry's emerald eyes and whispered a spell under his breath. Everything immediately came into focus.

Harry inhaled sharply, "I never seen so well in my life!"

"Maybe that is because you were too lazy to get your eyes rechecked regularly. Most likely thought it was below you. I mean, the great Harry Potter should need no assistance to see," the Potions Master sneered.

Harry flinched slightly. "I didn't know my eyes needed to be rechecked. I've always seen the same ever since I got my glasses."

"You cannot tell me you only wore that same pair of spectacles most of your life, Potter. It is idiotic. Surely, your relatives bought you a renewed prescription before you began Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head. "Those are the only glasses I ever wore in my entire life." He suddenly snorted in a disgusted sort of way. "And the Dursley's didn't even want to buy me that pair. They would rather have me go blind than waste another cent on my eyes."

_Which look exactly like my mother's,_ Harry added silently.

"Merlin, Potter. Must you be so dramatic? I think you just refused to go get your precious eyes rechecked, or never asked," Snape spat.

Sighing, Harry just sat back and rubbed his face. As much as he hated to admit Snape was right... Well, it _was_ true, he _should_ have asked. Even though his uncle would have probably chucked him straight back into his cupboard. Wait a second, _his _cupboard? When did he think of that cramped little space as his?

"Severus," Dumbledore started in warning, but then he sighed as well. "When do you suppose the potion will be complete? You know this charm only works for a short while."

"If I start tonight I will most likely have the temporary solution tomorrow morning. Of course, I will have to do some tests on Mr. Potter first so I can give him the right prescriptions. You do know, Albus, that he will need to take a series of potions before the results become permanent. Once a week for about three months, I should say, seeing how powerful the lenses in his glasses were."

Harry nearly gagged. Letting Snape run tests on him once a week, for three months?

Just then he noticed Snape staring directly in his eyes. "No, Potter. I will not be running tests on you once a week for three months. I will, however, be running tests on you once a month and giving you the potion once a week."

Harry felt quite relieved at that. He had to see the Professor almost everyday in classes and meals, what's a few extra minutes in the dungeons to help his vision? Yet, a heavy rock still felt as if it lodged itself in his stomach. He didn't want to see Snape at all. _Ever._ Since the Pensieve incident Harry felt as if he were walking on eggshells around the man.

"W- when will I have to take the first test?"

Snape eyed him closely before turning to Dumbledore. The old wizard's eyes were still twinkling madly. "You have only spent two weeks at the Dursley's so far, Harry. We will need to arrange something with them"

The thought of Snape bursting in his relative's home with a portable potion's lab momentarily amused _and _horrified Harry. Merlin knew what his Uncle would say to that. Somehow the thought of him taking anymore threats from wizards didn't exactly make Harry feel safe. True, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley pretty much ignored him so far, but Vernon was strained and intensely enraged that a wizard would tell him how to take care of his "_freak of a nephew_" as Vernon put it.

In the beginning it was kind of fun. Straining the evil bastards that condemned him to hell every summer really cheered him up a bit (albeit bitterly). But Uncle Vernon appeared to be ready to snap. Harry had never seen him look so angry, so he backed off the second week and did whatever his Aunt Petunia asked of him (which wasn't really much anymore, anyhow).

The very notion that a wizard as threatening as Snape would just pop in their house was frightening. No way was Harry going to another trial, either. Especially for trying to ward off his own uncle.

"I am sure that Mrs. and Mr. Dursley wouldn't mind that you used their kitchen for a short while, Severus. After all, it is to help Harry's sight," Dumbledore said kindly, not realizing the look of horror on the teenager's face.

On the other hand, Snape did. "Calm down, Potter. It's not like I am going to curse the roof off your house."

The thought of Snape cursing off the roof of his Aunt and Uncle's house would have entertained Harry to no end a year ago. But with Sirius gone and his Uncle Vernon giving him the evil eye everytime he moved or breathed, he realized that the thought wasn't funny at all. With all the people who wanted him dead, Vernon Dursley was probably at the top of the list just then.

The decision was made. Snape was going to his summer home to run the tests tomorrow morning, add a few finishing touches to the concoction, then have Harry drink it. Assuming, that is, that he wasn't already dead when Snape came back.

"Err... Professor," he inquired, "Don't you have anything else to do all day tomorrow?"

Snape gave him the look of loathing that suited Harry and Harry alone. "I have a very busy schedule, Potter, so you should feel lucky that I am doing this for you. Especially, after you ran off a few hours ago," he snapped.

_Damn._

_Snape WOULD have to be my guard the day I felt like running off. Oh yes, and bloody beaten to a pulp._

"Harry, you shouldn't go off like that. This is for your protection. Those boys were very intoxicated, they wouldn't of known better if they had killed you."

_I wish they had._

It was very good that Snape wasn't trying to read his mind again, or whatever he liked to call it. He was studying Mrs. Figg, who plastered on a big fake smile and was offering him some tea. The smile didn't reach her eyes at all, which were dark with concern.

* * *

**A/N 6/19/05: I realized I edited the whole of Hazardous Sanity but _none_ of this. That was thoughtless of me, eh? I fixed a few mistakes and the format for you new readers.**


	3. Proposal

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter Three: Proposal**

_Father I will always be,  
That same boy that stood by the sea and,  
Watched you tower over me,  
Now I'm older I want to be the same as you_ -Yellowcard, Life Of A Salesman

* * *

"You want me to _what_?" Draco whispered in an awed voice. He tried several times to say something more fluid, but failed miserably.

The Dark Lord gave an amused chuckle. "Wormtail's original idea was somewhat idiotic, but that is what I am for, I suppose. What I am saying, Draco, is that I have a proposal for you. Since your father is temporarily in Azkaban I will be training you in the Dark Arts."

Draco gasped. "You, sir? Wouldn't someone else..."

"Usually, yes, one of my servants would be doing so. But I have much, much more in mind for you, Draco. Much more."

The tone in his voice made Draco shudder slightly.

"What more, my Lord?" Narcissa asked curiously.

"I know how much you hate the Potter boy," he stated, addressing Draco. "Perhaps, you would like a chance for revenge?"

Something in the corner of Draco's mind sparked. His own curiosity flamed. Revenge on Potter? How was he supposed to get revenge on Potter? The flame grew hungrily, gnawing any sense away from his brain.

"How am I going to do that?" he asked with a touch of eagerness.

Voldemort smiled. His plan was working. Maybe being charming could work even _after _people feared to say your name. "Wormtail suggested the two of you becoming friends. He still manages to forget that Potter is a paranoid little twit. Anything that seems... _wrong_ will only force him to investigate. He may even tell Dumbledore." He spat the name with venom. "Well, I'm asking you to merely watch him, to find a few things out. Then you will be rewarded with the revenge you seek out."

Voldemort laughed at the astonished look on Draco's face. "I see all, Draco. Remember that, it may do you some good in the future."

The Dark Lord didn't know how much that exact sentence would help Draco in the future. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have said it. Not knowing about this, Draco nodded dazedly.

"Good. Now let us discuss the terms and conditions."

* * *

The darkness was almost overwhelmingly inviting to Draco that night. After hours of discussing his apprenticeship with the Dark Lord and his mother, the need for sleep rang clear. His eyelids were drooping, the warm air smelled sweet and thick, and the emerald covers on his bed looked better than a million galleons ever could at that moment. 

_No! _He needed to stay awake. To think. There wasn't much time left to plan his strategy. This school year will be the hardest, yet surely the most satisfying, he had in a long while. Draco needed to trick Potter, not into becoming his "friend" as Wormtail stupidly put it, no. He had to push himself into Potter's life without him noticing any drastic changes.

But how the hell was he supposed to do that?

More memories of the meeting came back to him.

_**"You have to watch him. Look for any unusual behavior. Depression, anger, abnormal cheerfulness. Eavesdrop on his conversations any chance you get. Examine the way he speaks, his hand movements. You must know the Potter boy better than he even knows himself."**_

Okay. So he had to tail Potter's every move, breath, and step for the rest of the year. Hasn't he been doing something similar, anyway?

_Only this time, you're not doing it for stupid school rivalry reasons. This time it's serious. You will be breathing Harry Potter by the time you finish. You'll know his every weakness, his every desire. Then he'll die a torturous death for even thinking he was above you. For ruining your family, your reputation, your life._

"Potter's going down," Draco said in a determined voice. "He'll pay. That bastard will fucking pay."

_And I will be powerful. I will be the Dark Lord's right-hand. My father will be so proud of me, he'll treat me like a king. Everybody will know that I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, is the most talented wizard in the world. Even better than Harry Potter._

With those satisfying thoughts in mind, Draco Malfoy laid his head on his pillow and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy let her son sleep in late the following day. She didn't know how to feel about him anymore. Should she be proud about him working closer with the Dark Lord, should she be worried, or should she go on getting drunk and doing things she would regret later? Narcissa really did love her son, but he was too absorbed in his power. 

Sometimes he seemed too absorbed in Harry Potter.

Every summer he came home complaining endlessly about the Boy-Who-Lived. It was always something about him. The way people treated him because he was famous, how he got away with anything he did because of a stupid scar on his forehead, how he acted so arrogant and self-serving.

Narcissa hated the Potter boy, but Draco's endless rambles about him really disturbed her. It was as if he was completely obsessed with him! It was almost a fact in her mind that if Draco could, he _**would be**_ Harry Potter. Which was utterly mad, mind.Here he was, a powerful pureblood wizard with wealth beyond many's dreams, and he wanted to be someone the Dark Lord marked to kill!

Anything else but Draco's strange mania with Potter, Narcissa adored. Yet, it was becoming worse with every growing day. Draco sulked around the house all the time, always mumbling the name "Potter" or the words "revenge" and "better". He just stared at the walls sometimes and burst out in a childish rage.

She thought it would get better with Lucius gone. All the time in the world to spend with her baby until his influence came back. No mentions of Potter, the Dark Lord, or being the best. Just time she could spend talking with him, buying him things, getting to know him. But no. Draco already grew up without her help. He screamed and yelled and cursed at her in the beginning before going back into his regular "Potter frenzy".

No way would Narcissa Black Malfoy stand for _that._

So she yelled back. Gave him chores to do so it would show him who's boss. But he didn't change at all. He got worse, darker somehow. Now all his anger was directed at Potter and instead of releasing her from his fury, she made him hate her as well.

That's when the drinking started.

It started with a sip to help her out of her depression. Having both your husband and son distant from you never had good effects. The sips grew to gulps, grew to cups, cups grew to entire bottles. Draco watched her and followed her example. Somehow the summer didn't turn out the way she had planned.

But now there was time to change.

If she trained Draco for the Dark Lord and his spying then she could get closer to him. She could erase the past and start anew. Then when Lucius came back, they could be the family she's always wanted; powerful,rich, and loving.Narcissa sighed and looked at the unopened bottle in her hand. "When did my life become so screwed up?"

After a final thought, she raised the bottle and threw it at the wall.

It was a time for new beginnings, she might even get Draco to forget Potter for a little while.

* * *

_The room was cold. Very cold. Draco Malfoy scowled. The stupid house elves must have forgotten to cast the daily warming charms. Then he noticed the dark. If it was dark they must have forgotten to light the fire places as well. Damn servants. They were going to get the punishments of their lives because of this._

_He tentatively lowered his bare feet on the dark green carpet. It was damp. "What the-" Draco paused mid-sentence. Since when did his carpet have that deep hue of green? Yes, it was green before, but now it was such a healthy shade. Like lush lawns and crisp leaves from summer trees. Now it didn't match almost black emerald of his bed coverings!_

_And why exactly was it damp?_

_His scowl even deeper now, Draco slipped his feet into his slippers. Good, they weren't wet. Everytime he took a step the carpet made a slurping noise. Putting on a disgusted face, he strolled out into the hallway quickly. It was completely dark._

_Something was wrong. Since when did the house elves forget to light the whole house?._

_"MOTHER!"_

_No answer._

_Draco tried again. Still no answer. Where was his mother? Drunk, passed out somewhere? He reached for his wand before realizing it was still in his room._

_"Damn it."_

_After getting his wand and giving another disgusted grimace (the slurping noises remained), he hurried back into the hallway and whispered "Lumos." A white light instantly glowed from the tip of his wand._

_"What the hell is going on?" Draco whispered to himself after looking in several rooms and finding no one._

_"Where's my mother? MOTHER!"_

_Still no answer._

_"Chi Chi! Get out here this INSTANT!"_

_No cowering house elf. No drunk mother. No one at all was in the house with the exception of Draco. For the first time all morning, he felt a sharp pang of fear._

_"MOTHER! CHI CHI! ANYBODY! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" Draco screamed, but nobody replied. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."_

_He ran downstairs, his damp slippers making soft padding noises as they slapped the marble floor. Then, finding no one there either, he ran to the front door._

_"FUCKING HELL!"_

_The door wouldn't open. Draco kicked it several times but only succeeded in making his toes throb painfully. He ran back up the stairs and accidentally kicked off one of his slippers in his hurry. He ignored it and went on. If someone trapped him inside the house he wasn't about to make it easy for them to catch him._

_The damp rug in his room still made that odd slurping noise and without his other slipper Draco could feel the soft thread between his toes. So he ventured into his private bathroom and locked the door behind him._

_The mirror above his pearly white sink caught his eye._

_"Might as well take a last look at myself before the psychos who got to mother get to me."_

_Draco got to his feet, kicked off his other slipper, and walked slowly to his mirror. His gray eyes rose to the reflection and widened._

_"What the FUCK?" he screamed and stumbled back in a horrified sort of trance._

_Harry Potter smiled from inside the glass and mimicked the young Malfoy heir._

* * *

Draco Malfoy woke up trembling. 

"What did I just dream?" he asked himself even though the dream couldn't be clearer. It didn't run from his memory almost as soon as he woke up. It replayed over and over like a muggle movie in his mind.

Draco quickly looked around. It was summer, therefore warm. The lights were all on. He lowered his feet onto the carpet. It was dry. Sighing with relief, he called for Chi Chi who arrived seconds later with a breakfast tray.

"Mistress tells Chi Chi to give Master Draco his breakfast in bed," she squeaked, replying to Draco's surprised look.

Draco sat back on his bed and started on breakfast feeling dazed. His mother sent him his breakfast? She hadn't done that since the first day of his summer vacation! Usually, she yelled at him to come down and serve himself.

Deciding his life was getting back on track, Draco picked up a hash brown, took a bite, and laid back with a smirk. His mother must have finally remembered his worth after the meeting with the Dark Lord. About time.

_Now all I have to do is find a way to spy on Potter. Well, there are already loads of ways to do that._

The rest of the day was pretty boring. Narcissa wasn't home until dinner, which was decidedly odd. Draco didn't ask her where she was, though. He really didn't think he wanted to know. They ate their supper in silence. After they were done, Draco turned to go but his mother stopped him.

"I have some presents for you, Draco dearest."

Draco sat back down and stared at her. A present?  
For him? Draco gave a triumphant smirk.

_I should have known mother would want to reward me. I certainly deserve it._

Narcissa came back into the dining room levitating numerous parcels. All wrapped in foil-like wrapping paper in silver and green. She lowered them on the table before Draco and beckoned him to start.

Draco was only too glad to comply.

The first gift was rather large and he gathered that it was a basket. Opening it proved him right. It was a gift basket to be exact. And it was full of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products.

"Mother, why did you buy me something from that disgusting_ weasel _twinstore?" Draco snapped.

"The best thing to do with an enemy's weapons is to use it against them," she said clearly and calmly.

Draco thought about that for a minute. It was true, and he'd been dying to try out the weasel's products. Stubborn pride was the only thing stopping him.

Inside the basket he found most of their best merchandise. Strings that he put in his ear to spy on conversations; magical tracking devices; smoke bombs for easy getaways; small truth tablets (clear) to put into drinks or food and such; and much, much more. Putting that aside, he picked up a rectangular parcel which looked like it contained clothes.

In a way, it did.

"Mother! A-a..."

"Yes, Draco. It's an invisibility cloak."

He looked over the silvery cloak in awe. It was a dream of his to have one of these. But they were so hard to come by that he never got his wish.

"Where did you find it?" he asked eagerly.

Narcissa smiled. "I called in a few, _**ahem,**_ favors and located a man who sold it to me. Rather hesitantly, of course. Go on to the next one. You have a long day tomorrow."

Draco ignored the last comment and dug into the next gift. It was a small, metal box. He gave his mother a searching look. She told him to take out his wand and follow her instruction.

Narcissa tapped the box once and muttered, _"Alohomora."_ She tapped it twice and muttered, _"Aperio."_ Then she tapped it three times and muttered, _"Latus."_

Silently, the box's lid opened.

Draco gasped and was astonished at its contents.

"Mother, isn't all of this-"

"Illegal? Yes. Playing dirty? Yes. Expensive? Yes. Listen, Draco, you mustn't tell anyone about this, do you understand me? Not one person. Only use it in extreme positions and only for your missions for the Dark Lord. The other gifts will help you only for small, trivial things. These must only be used in secret. Understand?"

Draco nodded. He couldn't believe it. The seriousness in his mission finally met him full force. Narcissa smiled gently at him.

"Why don't we just get rid of these for now?" With a wave of her wand, all the presents banished.

_Probably went to my room,_ Draco mused and returned to the remaining gifts.

* * *

**A/N 6/25/05: Edited this today. I'm starting to think I should get a beta, because I'm not the best at realizing my mistakes while I'm typing. Plus, I'm too lazy to really check over every word to see if it works, or used right, or any of that. So I just might go to to get one for chapter 8...**

**A/N 6/30/05: Changed a few lines around in accordance to my new BETA's advice. Same thing for the last chapter ;) Thanks Jadzia!**


	4. Some Things Never Change

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter Four: Some Things Don't Get Better**

_Staring at the same four walls,  
Have you tried to help yourself?  
The rings around your eyes they don't hide,  
That you need to get some rest_ -Dido, Slide

* * *

Snape arrived around ten o'clock the next morning. Dumbledore gave Harry a letter explaining why and when the Potion's Master was coming the night before. As expected, the Dursley's were completely livid. The pulsing vein in Uncle Vernon's temple nearly burst at the thought of another wizard "_trespassing on his property_".

* * *

Severus Snape eyed the house with dislike. It looked like somewhere a Potter would live. Perfect neat house, perfectly kept lawn, perfect bloody flowers with perfect bloody hedges. Damn Potter. He raised his knuckles to knock on the perfect door.

* * *

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the collar. "Get the bloody door, boy," he hissed dangerously in his ear before shoving him roughly. 

Harry fidgeted nervously. He barely had any sleep the night before and knew he looked dreadful. He raised his hand and reached toward the door. It reminded Harry eerily of his recurring dream with Sirius. Half expecting the handle to melt, he planted his hands on it and turned.

"Finally, Potter. I was beginning to wonder if you've gone deaf as well as blind," Snape drawled. His deep voice washed over Harry. It was comforting to have a wizard in the house to protect him from the Dursley's, but nerve-wracking at the same time.

_Please let the Dursleys act like a real family for once,_ he pleaded in his head vehemently. Professor Snape raised his eyebrow at the looks of astonishment Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were giving him.

"I'm not blind," Harry suddenly spat. He angrily spun on his heel and stomped toward the kitchen.

_How dare Snape humiliate me in front of my relatives! He should know how they are! Merlin knows how they are going to use that against me!_

Magic, uncontrolled and unstable, was filling up inside of him. It took every ounce of energy he had to keep it in check. If he got any angrier it would spill over and he could get expelled.

_Calm down, Potter, an amused voice in his mind said. Don't want to kill anyone else now, would you?_ Shaking his head to clear the voice, Harry's shoulders dropped. No, he couldn't be out of control again. The voice was right, he might get someone hurt, or worse, killed.

_God, I really have to stop talking to myself!_

Snape walked in behind him and Harry suddenly noticed the muggle like suitcase in his hand. He didn't ask what it was for because it was obvious. It most likely contained various potions and things to test him with.

_What is wrong with Dumbledore? Doesn't he know how easily Snape can poison me like this?_

If Snape saw this thought, he had no reaction to it. Though, he was most likely expecting it.

"Sit on the table," the Potions Master snapped finally. Harry did as he was told.

Snape pushed the black leather suitcase on the table beside Harry. Then he strolled over to the sink and without even turning, flicked his wand, and commenced washing his hands. The suitcase slowly opened, and to Harry's surprise, a metal tray rose out. And another, and another. Soon several metal trays were floating above one another, and they were all flooded with various potions and ingredients.

Harry suppressed a shudder.

"If you were capable of creating a credible potion, you would be doing this yourself. But as you are not, the headmaster saw fit to allow me to do it." He had no doubt been watching him.

Harry seethed. "I can make a credible potion anytime I damn well please, you slimy-"

Snape swooped down on him. "If you ever use that tone of voice with me again, the potions I'm working on might "_accidentally_" turn out poisonous," he whispered dangerously.

_And your nose might "accidentally" start eating small children._

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," the professor said smoothly.

"What? You can't do that!" Harry exclaimed, feeling outraged.

Snape turned his onyx black eyes on him. "And why can't I, Potter?" he asked, goading the Gryffindor on.

"You can't take points while I'm away from school!"

"I believe I can do whatever I want, Potter."

"Bastard..."

"What was that?"

"I said 'Cas...turd'."

"Really, Potter. I think your vocabulary is growing increasingly intelligent with every year."

Harry just sat, trying to burn holes into the soles of Snape's shoes.

His goal was cut short, however, by the shoes moving closer to the table. A high clinking sound was heard and he lifted his head to see what exactly the older man was doing.

Severus held up a vile to the light. Inside was a clear liquid and Harry was reminded of Veritaserum. He really hoped it was a different potion, he didn't want to say anything embarrassing to Snape. The professor set the vile down on one of the trays and lit a fire beneath it. Then he turned to Harry.

"I need to weigh and measure you next time I visit. Today I am just going to check your eyes so I can be sure of the ingredients I will be needing." Snape raised his wand so it was level with Harry's eyes.

"Open your eyes. Wider. Do not blink until I instruct you to, understand?" Snape shot at him. Harry gritted his teeth and kept his eyes open.

Snape shone a light from his wand tip into both Harry's eyes, examining them closely. Occasionally, he muttered something under his breath and bent over a piece of parchment, taking notes. Harry still could not blink. His eyes watered until they blurred his vision completely. Harry still could not blink.

Snape resumed taking notes, ignoring the boy's distress. Finally, when Harry thought his eyes could not possibly hold any more liquid, Snape commanded him to blink. The tears in his eyes quickly streamed down his face and Snape caught each one in the vial he was heating.

As soon as the tears hit the hot surface of whatever was in the vial, it all turned black. The black then quickly faded back to its original clear color.

Snape just scowled, but didn't say anything. Instead he just worked with the vial at the tray, blocking it from Harry's view. When Snape turned around this time he was not holding a potion, he was holding a giant needle.

Harry couldn't help it, he jumped. _What does he think he's going to do with **THAT**,_ he thought, staring at it wide-eyed. Snape gave him a malicious smile.

"I need a blood sample if I'm to fix your sight correctly. Now sit still or I will have to stun you," he directed. The nasty smile didn't waver.

Harry shuddered. Snape's black heeled boots clicked on the floor. Getting closer. The needle was enormous. It would never fit in his arm! But it did. Snape would make sure it did. He grabbed Harry's wrist and jerked it around.

His beetle black eyes searched until he found a suitable spot. Then he grabbed the needle pushed it slowly into Harry's skin. It hurt. It felt like someone was stabbing him in the arm with a pitchfork. But it felt good, too. A painful sort of good. Like when youtake a really horrible tasting medicine,but keep taking it later on because it makes you feel better.

It was hard to explain. The pain took over his mind, so all the horrible thoughts about Sirius and Voldemort and the war were pushed back like it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Only the pain did. Blood started filling up the tube.

A spark of pleasure was ignited in the back of Harry's head. Even though it hurt, it felt so good. So good. Nothing mattered. His mind was inflamed with only one thought and he could take it; pain. He could always take pain. He could control pain. He could control this pain if he wanted to.

All too soon the sharp needle was withdrawn from his flesh. But instead of pain, an odd blankness took over his head. No thoughts at all. Snape was at the tray again, blocking his actions. The buzzing emptiness was just as good as the pain. He felt nothing. No hurting, no anger, no confusion. Nothing.

He was nothing, and it felt so damn perfect.

Snape was shoving a potion into his hands and leaving now and so was the blank feeling. The soreness in his arms returned full force along with all his dark thoughts. He drank the potion and walked after him.

All well, it was nice while it lasted... Harry thought sadly.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon called from the living room. Professor Snape lingered at the door. Vernon completely ignored him and went on.

"Go out and mow the lawn. When you are finished, go ask your aunt for a list of chores. You have a lot of stuff to catch up on this summer."

Harry felt a surge of shock. Was his uncle bossing him around, after what the order said to him? This could not be right.

"Why don't you tell Dudley to do it? He could do with a bit of exercise, soon he might not be able to get through the door." Harry's voice was calm, but his eyes burned like coals.

Snape watched the conversation from the door. He didn't bother to move. Harry's eyes flickered to him once before his uncle replied.

"Dudley's out, and I wouldn't comment on his weight if I were you. He's a healthy sized boy. You, as Marge wisely says, are a scrawny little runt. I may just take her advice and throw you in an orphanage!" The man exclaimed, his face slowly turning it's infamous bright purple.

Harry burst out laughing. The ridicule, the embarrassment, the strangeness of this moment was getting to him. Since when did his Uncle grow the balls to yell at him in the presence of wizards? When did Snape decide he was interested in Harry's home life enough to eavesdrop? Why did Vernon start talking about his sister so much? He usually avoids the subject of her completely. Unless...

"Why are you laughing? I will! I WILL THROW YOU INTO AN ORPHANAGE! I SHOULD HAVE DONE WORSE WHEN YOU WERE A BABY! I SHOULD OF HAD YOU DROWNED!" Uncle Vernon yelled, spraying spit onto the carpet.

Harry laughed some more, but this time it was for show. "I would _LIKE_ to go to an orphanage! They would treat me better than you- you _freaks!"_

Freak. He had just called his muggle family freaks. They would not like that at all. That was the name they reserved especially for him.

"What did you just call me, boy?" Uncle Vernon growled.

_Freaks. Freak. I called you a freak. I called you and your whole horrible family freaks, Harry thought, feeling quite stunned by his own words._

Snape just kept watching. Why wouldn't he leave?

"I called you a freak. Freak. Freak. Freakity. Fucking. _**FREAK!"**_

"How-dare-you!" Vernon took a step closer with every word and Harry was taken back into his memories. This seemed so familiar...

_**Uncle Vernon got closer with every step, crushing a letter with his hand. "How-dare-you!" he howled, brandishing the crumpled note. Little Harry took a few tentative steps back, feeling terrified. The older man started yelling about how he turned his teacher's wig blue and that his freakishness will get them thrown out of the neighborhood. He started saying they should have him burned at the stake. Then, BAM! A fist connected with little Harry's head.**_

Harry was torn out his memory by his Uncle approaching fast. But he didn't move, just blinked, cocked his head, and smiled at him.

"When is Aunt Marge coming?" he asked innocently.

Uncle Vernon dropped his raised fist, and gaped at him. Harry saw Snape return his wand to his robe pocket. Seeing this as his chance to escape, Harrystalked slowlyup the stairs and into his room.

Harry threw himself on his twin sized bed. If his door could lock from the inside, he would have definitely bolted it. The scene downstairs was one of the weirdest he encountered since he left Hogwarts. Snape visited him during the summer and stabbed him in the arm with a needle, Uncle Vernon had the audacity to yell at Harry in front of Snape, then Harry realized Aunt Marge was coming for one of her infamous visits.

"My life just keeps getting better and better," he moaned into his pillow.

_Why did Snape have to treat him like dirt in the Dursley's house, too? Now Uncle Vernon is going to think the wizarding world hates me! There's no telling what he's going to-_

Uncle Vernon burst into the room, his face still a very bright purple. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? ACTING LIKE THAT WITH VISITORS! YOU THINK YOU CAN PUSH THIS FAMILY AROUND JUST BECAUSE OF YOUR FREAK FRIENDS?" With the word "friends" Vernon's temple gave a nasty throb.

Harry barely flinched. Instead, he observed his uncle coolly.

"Yes. Yes, I do," he replied, an insolent smirk guarding his anger.

He had it with his relatives. The way they treated him, like vermin, like the way the Malfoy's treated Dobby. It was unbearable. He was the Boy-Who-Lived! Harry didn't usually like special treatment, but he was human and at least deserved respect and love from his only family! The Dursley's never acknowledged a single good thing he has done!

_When I do something good, they always forget. When I do something bad, they always remember_, he thought while staring his uncle down.

"YOU-YOU DISGRACE THIS FAMILY! YOU DISGRACE ALL LIVING HUMANS, YOU AND ALL THOSE FREAKS!" He continued.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Harry burst out. He could not take this crap- this abuse- any more. It was tearing at his sanity like it was a cheap piece of parchment.

"Excuse me?" Uncle Vernon's voice was dangerously low. It was worse than his yelling.

Harry ignored his change of tone. He saw red. Crimson red. Like Gryffindor house colors, or blood. Like the blood Snape has right now.

"I SAID, GET OUT OF MY ROOM! GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK! I'M SICK OF YOU, YOUR BONY WIFE, AND YOUR FAT WHALE SON! GET-OUT-OF-MY-LIFE!" Harry trembled with his fury. Finally, a chance to tell this bastard how he felt.

He opened his mouth to deliver more insults but Uncle Vernon was already on him. His fat, beefy hand grabbed Harry's frayed shirt collar and yanked it up. Hard. Harry struggled to breathe. The shirt dug into his neck, cutting of his supply of air. Vernon's face was level with his own. An eerie twinkle in his eyes scared the younger part of Harry out of his wits. This seemed familiar too...

_**Uncle Vernon held onto little Harry's shirt collar tightly. His loud words were so angry and rushed Harry could not understand any of them. When Vernon saw that Harry wasn't listening, he threw little Harry against the wall. Little Harry's head banged against the wall and saw black.**_

"Gerroff," Harry growled. His lungs screaming for release. Small white lights danced in his vision while he struggled with his Uncle's large hand.

Vernon was beyond anger. He was maniacal.

"All those years in that ruddy school undisciplined you. That's why you come back every damn summer, isn't it? They need you to be tamed because you wreak havoc at that freak place. None of them can tame you, can they? So they send you back to US because only WE can! But it doesn't last, does it? No, no... You make even MORE trouble so you can come back and terrorize MY family!"

Everything was fading to black. He wanted to breathe, needed to breathe... But there was another good feeling he got out of this pain. It was like he was flying... flying on his firebolt where he felt so light... he could just float on without it... he was floating away...

But before he fell into a peaceful darkness like he wanted to, Vernon cruelly dropped him on the floor. "Haha, no, I'm going to tame you. Then you never have to come back," he snarled.

Vernon kicked Harry in the head and left him in a pile on the floor; gasping for air and no longer feeling weightless. Harry felt like he used to, like his problems were crushing him into the dirt.

* * *

**A/N 6/19/05: This chapter has been EDITED, yeah baby! XD Fortunately, Aunt Marge _is _coming, but Harry won't be there to see her. She'll be coming when both Harry and Dudley are back in school for obvious reasons ;) No flying Marge in _this _story!**


	5. Training

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

_By Emerald Riddle_

**Chapter Five: Training**

_Do you ever think back to another time?  
Does it bring you so down that you thought you lost your mind?  
Do you want to lead a long trail of destruction,  
And mow down any bullshit that confronts you? _-Having A Blast, Green Day

* * *

Draco was a very unhappy sixteen year old. Last night at dinner he thought the rest of his summer would be smooth and easy, but his mother wrecked that thought the next morning. She announced that his training would begin that day. He knew he had to start some kind of training, but not this soon! He barely had time to congratulate himself on being so close to the Dark Lord! 

Well, _sort_ of close.

"I guess this is the price I pay for wanting revenge and power," Draco said, sighing to himself as he pulled on his dueling robes.

"I wonder how I'm going to duel when I can't use my bloody wand out of school."

"Well, you can't do it here of course," a voice behind him told him.

Draco jumped.

Narcissa smiled. "There are some places where the ministry can't detect wand usage. Unfortunately, our home is not one of them. The Dark Lord was thoughtful enough to set one up for us."

Draco blinked. This was too much information to digest at that moment and he just wanted to lie down. The only thing motivating him was Potter. Being better than Potter, humiliating Potter, hurting Potter, _killing Potter._

_Why doesn't he leave me alone? Ever since I was born it was "Potter" this and "Potter" that! Then I meet him and he just turns out to be a scrawny little whelp. He's average, not one ounce better than me, and it's time I showed everyone that._

Draco's gray eyes burned with hate. "Let's go, mother. I'll beat Potter even if it's the last thing I do," he muttered vehemently.

Narcissa stared at him, then nodded. If she wanted to stop his talk of Potter, then it only made sense to get rid of the boy. She personally did not care whether he lived or died; she just wanted her son back.

_Hopefully, when the Potter boy dies, Draco's spirit and determination won't die with him,_ Narcissa thought sadly. _Seeing how obsessed he is, that just might happen. I had to learn the hard way that the things you think you want aren't necessarily the things you need. Maybe Draco will figure that out before he does anything stupid._

Narcissa then stared at her hands, unable to meet her son's eyes. _Who's side am I on?_

Draco coughed, looking quite impatient.

_I'm on his side. Draco's side. But which side is that, I wonder? The boy only seems to care about his own welfare, not the Light or Dark. Does he even know what he has gotten himself into? One false move, and he will die. My baby will die._

Draco scowled.

_I hope he finds out what he is doing soon, because it might destroy him._

Narcissa picked up a mirror from her son's dresser and tapped it with her wand._ "Portus."_

"Grab onto your mirror on the count of three. One, two, three-"

Draco felt the familiar tug around his navel and before he knew it, he landed with a thud. The air felt thick and moist, and smelled old. He looked at his surroundings. They were in what looked like a cross between a basement and a dungeon. It wasn't as dark as one would figure, which probably was attributed to lighting charms.

Before Draco could look closer, he heard his mother call him. He glanced back at her and caught his wand just in time. Narcissa and Draco locked eyes for half a second, her blue with his gray, then she rose her wand.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Draco gasped and tried to dodge her attack, but he was too slow. All his limbs froze and he hit the floor.

Narcissa shook her head in disgust. "I thought you would at least know a proper shielding charm by now! _Ennervate."_

Draco's body relaxed and he scowled. It looked like his mother was back in bitch mode. He barely got back on his feet when his mother tried to curse him again.

_"Densaugeo,"_ she enchanted lazily, apparently feeling bored already.

Draco had no time to cast a shield, so he effectively dodged it by dropping to the floor.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ he yelled desperately.

A flicker of shock passed on Narcissa's face as her wand was wrenched out of her grasp.

Draco smirked wickedly. _"Furnunculus,"_ he said mockingly as he waved his wand in her direction.

His mother shrieked before diving out of the jinx's way. He knew she didn't want to have to deal with boils all over her face when the Parkinson's visited.

"Give me my wand, Draco," she commanded angrily.

Draco sighed and tossed it back to her.

He soon regretted that.

_"Diffindo!"_

Eyes wide, Draco's jerked his head to the side just in time to feel the heat of a curse skim his ear.

Silence.

Narcissa was staring at him in horror, and Draco's face reflected hers.

Warm liquid flowed from the tip of his ear and silvery blond locks of hair slowly fluttered toward the ground.

"My-my," he stuttered, touching his ear. Blood trailed down his fingertips until it formed a puddle in the palm of his hand.

"My _hair!"_ he exclaimed in hysterical panic.

Narcissa blinked. His ear was practically sliced in half and he was worried about his _**hair?**_

But Draco's hair did indeed look horrible. While the left side of his head had long blond locks reaching his chin, his right looked only slightly longer than a buzz cut. However, the blood oozing out of the side of his head was Narcissa's primary concern.

Pain suddenly enveloped Draco. This was when he realized the full extent of what happened.

"MY _**EAR!**_ OH, MY _**GOD!**_ MY _**EAR!**_ I'M GOING TO _**DIE!**_ I'M GOING TO _**BLEED **_TO _**DEATH!"**_

Narcissa wheeled at her son's loud screams of terror. They bounced off the stone walls, making them ten times louder than they already were (which was bad enough).

"SHUT UP!" she yelled back at him, trying to think.

Draco crumpled into a ball, cradling his bleeding head and sobbing. "I'M GOING TO DIE! YOU'VE KILLED ME! **YOU DRUNK WHORE**, YOU'VE **_KILLED ME!"_**

Narcissa's head was aching. She needed to think! Why couldn't he just shut up for a minute?

Draco was silent for a second, but only to look at his bloody fingers and start sobbing again.

"OH, MY GOD! I'M GOING TO DIE! I CAN'T BELIEVE MY **_OWN MOTHER_** KILLED ME! I'M-"

A clenched fist connected with Draco's head and he slumped on the floor silently.

_"Mobilicorpus,"_ Narcissa said, feeling exhausted. Couldn't she do anything right?

Her son's body rose and she got them ready to leave.

* * *

Draco moaned in pain. His eyes opened to see he was back at home in his room. Almost automatically, his hands reached to grasp his head. White bandages were covering everything like some kind of morbid helmet. Near his right ear he felt a moist spot. Draco brought up his fingers to his eyes and stared at them in horror. Dry blood coated them. 

Then he remembered.

_Training... Voldemort... Mother... Diffindo... Hair... Ear... Blood... Blood everywhere... I was screaming... Mother got mad... She punched me... Darkness..._

Draco held onto his mouth as he felt bile start to fill it. His ear was cut off! By his MOTHER! He groaned as his head gave another throb.

"I need a potion," he whined.

That was when he noticed the vials on his bedside table. Grabbing a Dreamless Sleep potion and downing it in one go, Draco fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Narcissa looked down at her son. Draco slept peacefully. She felt absolutely terrible. It seemed so easy to be a mother when Lucius was around. He took care of everything so she didn't have to. 

All Narcissa needed to do was stand there and be pretty; kissing Draco's "boo-boos" and singing him to sleep. Lucius was the one who knew how to take care of him. Lucius was the one who punished him, who put him in his place, who gave him someone to look up to.

Once, Narcissa didn't care about real family values. All she cared about was being respectable and filthy rich. Now, however, as she looked down at her only son... she realized that ever since she gave birth to Draco, all she wanted was to be with him. To replace everything his father did and said.

But it was too late.

She couldn't control him at all. He was nothing like she expected him to be; and no matter how much she drank or tried to be a perfect mother, she couldn't change him. Only Lucius could.

_And maybe one other,_ she thought.

Narcissa looked down again at her sleeping son and wiped away the tears flowing from her eyes. The path he was going down would only hurt him, even a neglectful mother knew that.

She tenderly unwrapped Draco's bandages and laid them on the floor beside her feet. Her hands lingered over his butchered hair and trailed over his face. His pointed face, which was purely his father's, and his pouty lips, which were so much like her own. At last she reached his closed eyes. Her manicured nails lightly skimmed both and her heart felt as if it would burst from all the motherly love she suddenly felt.

It was like all the love she lacked before just came rushing in when she looked down at his sleeping form. Draco was so vulnerable, so delicate... like he was an infant again and she was being given a second chance at motherhood.

Chi Chi then walked in, interrupting Narcissa's precious moment with her son. Chi Chi's big, round eyes looked up at the scene. She seemed to know she should leave, but didn't.

"Chi Chi is most sorry for bothering Mistress," she apologized earnestly. "But Chi Chi is having to heal Master Draco's injuries (she indicated the potions on the dresser). Chi Chi could come back if Mistress Malfoy wishes."

"No, that is alright, Chi Chi." Narcissa wiped the lingering tears on her face. "Go ahead. I will be in my room."

Narcissa quickly strode out of the room, embarrassed that a servant saw her in such a state.

Draco opened his eyes. He felt quite cranky and just wanted to sleep. However, little hands were pushing and shoving him out of slumber. Though he tried as hard as he might, he could not hold onto the last strands of blissful ignorance.

He turned on his other side to glare at the one who dared take away one of his few forms of happiness and saw Chi Chi fussing over him anxiously.

"Master Draco must wake up! Master has got a letter from his school!"

Draco shot out of bed quickly. A letter from school? Finally! He was looking forward to buying some new school supplies (all a hundred times better than anyone else's). Each supply list seemed to be coming later and later in the summer. He was beginning to think they have forgotten to send them this year.

"Mistress Malfoy is taking Draco shopping today. She says she has a big surprise for Master Draco!" Chi Chi was beaming at him as if he just won a million galleons.

"OKAY, Chi Chi. Thank you. Tell my mother I will be out in a minute."

Chi Chi left and Draco immediately rushed over to his mirror to check his head. The bandages were off and he was glad to see his ear had grown back, which was undoubtedly to happen anyway. Malfoy's couldn't just waltz around with deformations on their bodies, that was disgusting!

But his hair looked horrid.

Tears nearly welled up in the boy's eyes at the look of his once beautiful, silky locks. Short, almost bald on one side, and long and unchanged on the other. He looked like he belonged to a wizard freak show!

"I can't go out like this! I'll be the laughing stock of Diagon Alley!" he exclaimed. If a wizard's looks were taken away, so was all his dignity. At least that was Draco's opinion. And Draco had a lot of opinions.

Deciding he was not leaving the mansion until his looks were fixed, he set off to find his mother.

* * *

The sun was beating down on Draco Malfoy's almost bald head. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped into his eyes, which were scanning the various shops in Diagon Alley. No wizards or witches on the streets gave him much attention, which was unsurprising. 

Narcissa Malfoy had cut the remainder of her son's hair, gave him a hair growth potion, and placed glamour charms on his head because the potion took so long to be effective. So though she and Draco were both painfully aware of his ugly hair, nobody else knew about it. Only the caster of a glamour charm and the person who has it can see how they really look.

Draco was really thankful for that, at least.

On his arm one could see bulging bags of silky, expensive robes with the Slytherin crest embroided on the chest. Also there were custom seeker robes and brand new dragon hide boots. But Draco's favorite, above them all, was his "surprise".

It was a new broom. A broom that wasn't even on the market yet. It was fast, it was light, it was sleek, and it was better than Harry Potter's. A sinister sneer formed over his face as he clutched the precious item to his chest.

No one was to know about it until his first game. Draco would just love to see the stricken face of Potter as he caught the snitch and punched_ him_ in the face with it.

Oh yes, revenge was sweet.

Something black and messy in the large crowd caught Draco's eye. He couldn't believe it. On the same day! Hurriedly, he shoved people out of his way and searched the crowd with more anticipation than he expected.

Harry Potter walked around a street corner, his robes swishing out behind him.

Draco's heart jumped into his throat as he ran after him. He knew he should not have been doing something so foolish, but his whole summer was dedicated to Potter, therefore it was only normal to want to see him. He turned the corner, expecting to have to keep running, to halt in shock.

Potter was looking up at him from the ground. His green eyes very bright, almost glowing in the shadows of the alley. Draco took a step back. Then another, then another.

Those eyes weren't the ones he remembered. They were not amused to see him in distress or curious to see him in the same alley. They were not even anticipating a fight.

They were hard. Those eyes were cold and harsh. Nothing else filled those expressive green orbs except for pure hate.

Neither boy said anything. They just continued to stare at each other before Draco regained his sense and left.

That was Harry Potter. Yet, it was not the one he was expecting. Something was wrong and it was his, Draco's, job to find out what it was.

Narcissa waited for him at the end of the street. By her expression, he knew it was time to return home. The Parkinsons were coming for another visit today and Draco had a lot of letters to write.

* * *

**A/N 6/25/05: Edited today ;) I know some of you think Draco was awfully OOC in this chapter, buy I certainly don't. He's always portrayed as cool and permanently calm (or angry, depressed, love sick, ect.) in fanfiction,****and that isn't the case in cannon. He's immature, he's annoying, he's snobby, he's prejudice, and he's a big ole' fraidy dragon XDDD But that's why we love him. He can also be cool and calm, but not at all times. Draco's not stupid, he isn't fluffy, and he shouldn't be automatically in love with Harry Potter or Pansy Parkinson when he doesn't act like so in the books. Fanfiction is for developing the characters to the best of our ability, not to create new ones. I know I'm not the best at this, and I over exaggerate sometimes, but I_ try_ to make them seem cannon and "normal" until I change them slowly so they're _mine._**


	6. Escaping Hell Part I

**Chapter Six: Escaping Hell Part I **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

_I'm here today, just like every yesterday.  
Heavy heat, and the sheets stick to my skin.  
Can't get away from nothingness.  
_-Fishbowl by AFI

* * *

Harry could just barely breathe. The air was so thick and humid that it was difficult in inhale into his lungs. His naked chest was moving slowly and deeply, stretching the cuts and bruises and making him wince. How could anything hurt so much when inside he felt so numb? 

Reddish light poured into his window and he rubbed his swollen eyes. It was early, which was good. Maybe he could sneak some food from the kitchen before his aunt and uncle woke up. Not that Harry was particularly hungry, mind you, but he didn't think it was dignified to starve to death because of his muggle relatives. The wizarding world would ridicule his death; his friends would be ashamed they ever knew him.

No, if Harry Potter was going to die, it would be by Voldemort or himself. Not his abusive relatives. Definitely not.

Harry crawled out of his bed, the damp sheets sticking to his sweaty skin. On some places on his bed, one could see small stains of a red substance which looked suspiciously like blood. Which it probably was.

The raven haired boy pulled on the shirt he wore the day before and crept downstairs, cringing overtime a floorboard creaked. Maybe, hopefully, he would be able to get enough food to keep him alive for a few more days. Not that long. Just long enough until the Order came to get him. _Please God, let them come soon,_ he begged in his mind.

Every step he took was a reminder of what has happened to him in the past two weeks. The bruised skin and hurt bones on his feet ached. All Harry wanted to do was lie down and sleep until this nightmare was over. Today was his sixteenth birthday, and Uncle Vernon had promised him a special birthday beating just for him.

Harry shivered at the thought.

Then he glanced warily into the kitchen and his eyes widened in surprise. Hedwig and Pig sat waiting on the table; two fat parcels tied to their legs. Hedwig was giving Pig the usual look of disgust as the tiny bird struggled to carry the package to Harry.

A loud grunt came from upstairs. Quickly and quietly, Harry untied the two presents and ushered the birds back out of the kitchen window. Hedwig looked insulted and took flight almost at once. Harry felt a surge of guilt for treating his pet so badly, but Vernon would treat her much worse if he saw her with gifts for his nephew. The only reason Hedwig was allowed in the house at all was because Harry needed to write a letter every few days to the Order.

Uncle Vernon made sure he did. And made sure he didn't write anything that could alert the wizards to what was going on. That Harry was getting "tamed" and "treated justly".

_If I'm getting treated justly,_ Harry thought,_ then why can't I write about what's really going on?_

Pig whizzed excitedly around his head once before taking flight behind Hedwig. Harry sighed. The company was nice while it lasted. He remembered his presents and spun around to open them. There was a card from Hermione, which he promptly tucked into his pajama bottoms to read later. His eyes wandered over her gift. It was a book.

Harry groaned.

The title was "Wizarding Hobbies For The Young, Bored, And Restless" The book was rather large and thick, with a picture on the cover of a young boy drawing what seemed to be a cauldron bubbling.

_Oh,_ Harry thought, trying to keep his temper in check. _So Hermione thinks I have nothing better to do than to sit around and do useless crap all day? Does she think I need something to distract me from my "saving people thing"?_

Harry threw the book onto the kitchen counter with a loud thud. Then he took Ron's card, shoved it into his pajama pants as well, and ripped open the wrapping paper. His present was better. It was just what Harry needed about now. A six pack of butterbeer with a box of Honeydukes chocolates. The only way Pig could have carried this is if one of the Order put a feather-light charm on it, Harry mused as his temper settled back down.

He hoisted up his gifts and realized that the butterbeer was still cold.

_So they put a chilling charm on it, too,_ Harry thought, feeling quite delighted.

Quietly as possible, Harry rushed into his room and hid Ron's presents under the loose floorboard. Hermione's hobby book was too big and Harry panicked a bit before shoving it under his mattress.

Then he waited.

After about an hour he heard creaking floorboards straining under a heavy weight before Uncle Vernon appeared at Harry's door. His smile was bone chilling and eerie.

"Go make breakfast, boy. We have quite a day ahead of us! Not everyday my nephew turns sixteen, is it?" Vernon chuckled quietly and disappeared down the stairs.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing the beating of a lifetime was waiting for him when Dudley and Aunt Petunia left the house. Of course, they suspected what was going on. But Dudley just smirked at Harry when he saw a new cut or bruise and Petunia pretended not to notice. Harry tenderly set his feet on the ground and walked as slowly as he dared to the kitchen.

Thick slices of bacon sizzled in the frying pan. As Harry watched them, his mouth watered. He hadn't had anything freshly cooked in so long... Everything he ate was cold or disgustingly old. Sometimes he just skipped meals altogether. With so much under use, his stomach was shrinking and he could skip more and more meals every day.

But that didn't mean he did not miss delicious cooked food with a frosty cold drink.

After frying the bacon and eggs and toasting some bread, Uncle Vernon motioned that he go to the hall. "Boy," he said gruffly. "Write a letter about what a happy birthday you're having. And don't try any funny stuff," he added with an evil look. Vernon unlocked the cupboard under the stairs and pushed him inside.

Parchment and quill in hand, Harry retreated to the kitchen so his uncle could supervise his letter. He wrote the same as usual with individual tweaks here and there:

_Hello Everyone,_

_My summer is still going great! The Dursley's are unbelievably nice when you get to know them. They are actually throwing me a birthday party today! I have a lot of new friends here, so it'll probably be really huge._

Harry's hand shook with smothered emotion as he wrote these lines. Tears filled his green eyes as he wished fervently that any of it could be true. Uncle Vernonstill watched him, so he continued:

_Aunt Petunia doesn't mind at all, in fact, she encourages it! I'm going to miss it when I come back to Hogwarts... Tell Hermione and Ron I'm sorry for not writing them, I've been really busy lately. Anyway, we'll see each other every day at school!_

_Harry_

Harry could barely believe all the lies he could fit into one letter.

Uncle Vernon was pleased as he read it, so pleased it made a surge of anger jolt up Harry's spine. His mouth twisted in an effort not to make any nasty, sarcastic comments. Aunt Petunia walked briskly into the kitchen, Dudley waddling in behind her, distracting Harry from his momentary rage.

"Get your bloody owl and send this," Vernon shot at him, thrusting the letter under his nose.

Harry took it and went through the back door into the yard. Under the shade of a maple tree was an old, worn shed. Harry walked over to it and yanked open the door, earning several splinters in his hand. Hedwig was in her cage, near the back and in as much shade as possible. At the creaking of the old wooden door, she opened one of her large amber eyes and hooted in loathing. Harry sighed. He neglected Hedwig awfully these past few weeks and now even she hated him.

"Please, girl," he begged, holding out the letter with his shaking hand. "I really need you to bring this to the Order."

Hedwig turned up her beak up in disgust and refused to have anything to do with him..

"Hedwig, PLEASE! I don't have a choice! You know what my relatives are like! You understand me! You're the only one who understands me..." Tears stung his eyes as he looked for any sign other than anger in his pet.

After a few seconds, she hesitantly stuck out her leg; a bit of sadness reflected in her eyes. Harry attached the letter and gave his thanks over and over again until Hedwig took off. Then he turned to face his own private _Hell._

"Petunia, why don't you and Dudley go shopping for that new television set he wants? I dare say he deserves it!" Uncle Vernon said to his wife with a quick glance toward Harry.

Petunia looked at Harry for a moment as well, and he thought he saw a flicker of worry in them before she nodded and forced a smile. Dudley's eyes grew as round as galleons. He jumped up and whooped loudly, punching the air with his fist. If he ever wanted to leave the house, it was for things like this.

"Mom," he asked excitedly, "can we go now?"

Petunia looked between Harry and Vernon and nodded again. She got up as Dudley jumped up and raced toward the car.

Harry gulped as he heard the Dursley's car speed away. Uncle Vernon ordered him to his bedroom and that is where Harry sat.

_Waiting._

Until finally- "Hey boy, I've got a surprise for you."

Vernon grabbed Harry by the hair and brought him up to his face, "Now this will teach you to how to behavelike a proper sixteen year old," he growled, pulling off Harry's shirt and shoving him face first into his bed.

He commanded Harry to lay still and not make a sound. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a loud crack in the air followed by an intense pain in his back.

"One," his uncle's voice said.

He was whipping him! The sick bastard was _**WHIPPING**_ him! Harry's bitten nails dug into the bed as Vernon delivered another.

"Two."

A soft gasp of pain erupted from his mouth. It hurt so badly!

"Three."

Tears filled Harry's eyes for the third time that day, followed with a sharp cry.

"Four!"

Vernon added more strength to his whipping and was rewarded with a scream of agony. Tears slid out from behind Harry's closed eyes. He didn't ask for it to stop because that would only make it worse. The whipping went on until sixteen, then Vernon paused and delivered a last one "for good luck." Then he left, closing the door and laughing loudly and he strolled down the stairs.

Harry just laid there kneeling on the floor with the bed supporting him from the waist up. He had stopped crying long ago, too weak to even sob properly. There was a burning pain in his back, like a very bad sunburn someone rubbed with salt. It hurt so badly that after attempting to get up several times, Harry gave up and forced himself to sleep in his uncomfortable position.

It was dark. Severus Snape stood in the shadows, watching number four Private Drive with intensity. The Order informed him that there were probably going to be festivities at the Dursley residence for Potter's birthday. He waited the entire afternoon for any little brats running about or any large parcels showing up in the mail. There was nothing. No music, no singing, no lights, no signs of any type of a muggle party on the whole street. Severus wanted to know what was going on.

_No celebrations on Harry Potter's birthday? Yeah, and the Dark Lord will beg on his knees for forgiveness._ Severus snorted. Itwas going to be along night.

Lost in his thoughts, Snape didn't notice the skinny figure with bright green eyes sneak out from the back of the house and down the sidewalk.

Harry knew Snape was outside, watching the house. A part of him wanted to run tothe Potionsmaster and beg for help, but the other part, the part that still had pride, would rather _**die.**_ So, instead, he just snuck off and ran. To where? He didn't know. He had no extra clothes, no extra food, no money at all... all he was thinking about was that he had to leave before his uncle killed him.

It hurt so much to run with the near crippling pain in his back, so he was slowed down considerably and walked with a heavy limp. The park wasn't very far, only a few blocks, but with every step it seemed to shrink farther away...

"Hey, Potter! Where'd ya think you goin' at this time?" Piers Polkiss spoke so loudly, Harry feared that Snape would hear him.

"Shut up," he growled, not really thinking about it.

Piers was silent and Harry thought he had just walked away. How wrong he was. After another block of strained limping Piers staggered up beside him. Harry tried his best to ignore the rat-like boy, almost enjoying some form of company. Piers didn't seem to be plotting anything, at least not from his past experiences. The only thing he found suspicious were the smells. The other boy smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, a smell not many could connect with comfort.

Harry's suspicions proved true.

They passed a dark alley, and sweaty hands grabbed Harry by the arm and threw him straight into it. There were no other boys. Just Piers. Piers holding him down on the rough concrete ground, Piers forcing his mouth on Harry's, Piers' disgusting smelling tongue forcing itself into Harry's mouth so he wanted to gag. Why was this happening? Why was Piers doing this to him?

Some part of him, the hormone crazed teenager no doubt, liked the feeling of another body against his own. But his injured back rubbing against the ground and the realization that he was being kissed by a _boy_, a very mean and vile boy at that, soon stopped him from any type of pleasure. He wanted to leave. To leave and get Snape or Mrs. Figg, or even his uncle!

Something hard pressed into Harry's thigh. Piers moaned into his ear and slid his hands down, unbuckling his belt.

_**OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod,**_ was Harry's only reaction. This couldn't be happening! It just wasn't possible! He was getting raped! He was getting raped by a guy! Piers was already pulling off his pants; Harry struggled and fought and even bit, but it was all in vain. The aches,  
scratches, bruises, and other injuries added to the scraping of his back nearly made him pass out.

Still having some remainder of his infamous "Potter Pride," Harry made sure it wasn't easy to touch him in a such a repulsive way. He started to punch every bit of Piers he could find. He bit the tongue in his mouth and tasted blood. Finally, having enough, Piers began punching him back. It was a great surprise that the wiry boy could hit so hard and Harry eventually stopped and only wriggled under him furiously, hoping for an escape.

"Stop it! What are you doing? Get _off_ of me! _**Get off of me,**_ **_NOW!"_**

Piers laughed harshly and began tugging Harry's pants off. "Oh, c'mon! You know you want it, whore." He began pulling Harry's jeans and began to kiss him sloppily again.

Harry felt the other boy's hands groping his skinny frame and touching places no one dared touch before. Before he knew it, he was completely naked from the waist down, a worn shirt covering his stomach and chest. He knew what was coming, and he tried to stop it, but Piers wouldn't allow it.

"Happy birthday, Potter," he growled before moving inside of Harry roughly, moaning in pleasure. Harry let out a cry of agony. Tears stung his eyes and his hands scrambled on Piers' back as he attempted to cause any pain possible...

_I'm somewhere else,_ Harry thought. _I'm not here. I'm in my room,  
asleep. I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here..._

It hurt so badly, like sharp electric shocks were traveling up and down his spine. His breath was hitched and labored, the only thing he could think of was wishing it would stop...

After what seemed like an eternity, Piers exclaimed loudly into Harry's ear and laid limply on top of his sore, abused body. Harry shoved him off and quickly put his clothes back on. Piers didn't stir; it looked as if he had passed out. Harry felt weak and torn up inside, he felt as if it was best just to go back to his uncle's house than risk anything like that again.

He crept into the house cautiously, looking around for the cupboard under the stairs. Tears were streaming a continual river down his battered face. There was no way he could live like this anymore, it was just too inhuman! Harry fumbled with the lock on the door before taking out a bobby pin from his back pocket. Mimicking what Fred and George once taught him, the lock was able to spring open easily. Inside was his trunk. Harry knelt beside it, feeling the smooth surface as if it was consoling to his damaged soul.

A wand lay at the very bottom, under a silvery invisibility cloak. Beside it was an ancient piece of parchment and small fragments of glass. Harry's gaze avoided them. All he wanted was his wand, not another reason to cry like some kind of five-year-old.

_Leave,_ he thought to himself bitterly, _I've got to leave. There's nothing for me here. I can only kill and hurt people..._ Thoughts of Sirius' face, mournful and sad, were blaring in his skull. _I will not cry, _he commanded himself,_ crying is for the weak, the worthless, the-_

_  
_Images of Hermione floated into his head, she had tears flowing down her face and her lip was trembling slightly. _Scratch that,_ he reprimanded himself, _crying is for girls and weak boys. Yeah._

Harry was starting to feel panicked. He knew he had to leave. If he didn't there would be a good chance that he would not get through the summer alive. The thought struck him. Dead. Killed by his awful relatives. _Oh God, I can't bear this_, he thought earnestly. His head thumped and it was almost painful to breathe.

Almost without thinking about it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. It was a simple necklace, really. The thing Harry was really interested was the ring. Attached to the long elegantly woven chain was a beautiful ring. It was a silver serpent with emerald eyes and the tip of its tail was being bitten by its mouth. Harry thought the gesture was solemn and kind of ironic.

_The mascot of Slytherin doing itself in._ The thought seemed very farfetched, but very true at the same time. Wary as he was of snakes now, Harry used to be quite fond of them as a child. How he got the thing was a rather odd story... In fact, Dudley was the one who originally found it...

_**After getting into the car with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, Harry sat a in a calm happy state. What Remus, Tonks, and Moody had just done for him was great! Surely his summer would improve by multitudes!**_

_**Harry was shaken by his thoughts by Dudley exclaiming loudly. "What's this, dad?" he asked his father, holding up a silver necklace with a ring attached to the end.**_

_**Uncle Vernon looked at it and grunted. "Don't know. But it's an ugly thing, isn't it? Better throw it in the rubbish bin when we get home.**_

_**Dudley started fiddling with it, completely ignoring his father's response. He was trying to fit it on his fat finger unsuccessfully. Finally he gave up and threw it back under the seat angrily. "Ugly bloody thing... probably fake and cheap anyway..." Aunt Petunia nodded and started talking (endlessly it seemed) about cheap people who had no taste. Like their neighbor Mrs. what's-her-name. Harry groaned and steeled himself for one of his aunt's long-winded rants.**_

_**When they arrived home (Petunia was now talking about those nosey people who always had their noses over their fence ("...as if they didn't have their own lives!"), Uncle Vernon asked Dudley to get the fake necklace from under the seat so he can throw it away. "I won't have disgraceful little fancies in my car. A snake eating itself, imagine what people will say!"**_

_**Harry didn't know what people his uncle was speaking of, or if they would actually care or not, but didn't ask. It was better to just stay on their good side for now.**_

_**Dudley made no effort to find the necklace, instead he just said, "Make Harry do it!"**_

_**They made Harry look under the dusty seats of their car for something none of them wanted. What an extraordinary way to start off the summer, Harry thought angrily.**_

_**But when the time came to drop the ring into the garbage can, he couldn't do it. Instead, Harry just hid it in his pocket.**_

Harry pushed his thoughts away hastily. He needed to leave. To get away from his memories. A strange buzzing was going through his mind... like the day's happenings couldn't be processed.

_I feel so disgusting._ Harry shuddered, not wanting to touch himself. _How could I let him, a muggle, do that to me? How could anyone expect me to have any power against Voldemort after that? I can't even properly defend myself..._

A creak startled Harry. Thinking of Uncle Vernon, Harryheard himself start sputtering explanations. "Uncle Vernon, I swear, I _swear_ I wasn't doing anything wrong! I was just... er, I was just... I was just doing... something," he ended lamely.

The dark figure raised its arm and Harry quickly ducked his head, knowing it was better to just grit his teeth and take it. The hand stopped short from clutching his collar. Nowhere near his head.

"Really, Potter. I know you think me cruel but I would never strike a student," a familiar voice said.

Harry's strength left him and he fell to his knees. "Pro-professor Snape?" he asked weakly.

"Quite," Snape replied, seeming both angry and curious.

A tense silence filled the space between them.

"What did I tell you about running off, Potter? Or does nothing penetrate that thick skull of yours?" His words weren't quite as harsh as usual, but Harry didn't notice this.

Harry's fear quickly turned into rage, as it usually did around Snape.

"I didn't know how stupid you were until this very moment-"

"I _know_! Just...go _away!_ JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled, trying to stand.

Snape grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, Harry yanked it away. Glaring furiously as he possibly could with so much pain in him, Harry shoved his professor away from him.

"Don't touch me. Don't you_**e ver**_ touch me again! Don't even bother _**looking **_atme! Forget my fucking eyesight, okay? I'll just get the Dursley's to buy me a new pair of glasses!

"Excuse me, Potter? I shall touch you whenever I want-"

"THE FUCK YOU WILL! NOBODY TOUCHES ME, GOT IT?  
NOBODY! AND IF YOU-"

"What's all that racket? _POTTER!_ If that's you, you're going to get another-"

Harry tried desperately to drown out his uncle's voice. "Professor, go."

Snape didn't budge.

"Please! Go! I'm _sorry!_ Go!" Harry begged on his knees. If Snape found out- Oh Merlin, the humiliation!

Snape sneered down at him. "Stand up, Potter. Merlin, where is your dignity? I think I should have a talk with your relatives."

"Oh God... please don't, Professor. Please. They'll kill me!"

"How unfortunate," Snape said. He still didn't budge.

Harry ran up the stairs to head off his uncle. He was almost at the top step when a heavy hand struck him across his face and he went crashing down to the bottom. His head banged against the wall. Through bleary eyes Harry saw his uncle retreat to his bedroom. Everything hurt.

"Please, please, don't tell anyone," he begged Snape. It was worthless to lie anymore, especially with that display.

"I don't think I can promise you that, Potter," Snape's voice was cold, but was that... shock in his voice?

Harry slumped, feeling more ashamed than ever. At least Snape didn't know about... _before._

"But I can promise to tell the Headmaster only after you are ready."

That sounded so calm, so reasonable. It sounded nothing like Snape.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Harry asked groggily.

Professor Snape didn't answer. Instead he said, "Go pack your things. You shall be picked up tomorrow. I will tell no lies to the Headmaster, **but I will also let your privacy be your own."** The way he said that last part, about privacy, seemed more pronounced than the others and Harry felt guilty.

Before he could apologize for last year's antics, however, Snape was gone in a swish of a cloak.

* * *

**A/N 6/30/05: My Lord... So many spacing errors O.o I'm happy that my new BETA asked me to fix it... Thank you, Jadzia!**


	7. Escaping Hell Part II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the Harry Potter series. And I most definitely do not own Tom Felton. But hey! A girl can dream!**

**Shards Of A Diamond**

_**By Emerald Riddle 4/05**_

**Chapter Seven: Escaping Hell Part II**

_I need to think,_

_I need to feed,_

_I need to know if I still bleed,_

_I need a place,_

_I need a time,_

_'Cause I need to step outside that line... _

**_Just One_ by Hoobastank**

* * *

Harry lay there for a long time. His head was buzzing agonizingly, failing to register everything that had happened. It was so embarrassing... So humiliating... So completely odd and out of place in Harry Potter's life that he did what most boys his age did- he pushed it out of his mind. Usually, it would take longer to erase all the haunting questions and memories away... but with only a twitch of a finger on the serpent ring and it all vanished easily. 

Harry shoved himself up and cleaned up a bit, because the mess around him and on him made him shudder. If Vernon saw that...

He rubbed the ring in his pocket, and the thought floated away.

The next moment, Harry was in the shower, pretending not to notice how the blood and cum slid down his body. Or how his wounds reopened and his bruises throbbed as he rubbed a bar of soap against them. Everything was in a haze and the boy with the now dull green eyes did his movements in an automatic state. Even if his body cried in protest.

Taking a second's glance the bathroom mirror showed him that his face on one side was swollen and that he had a rather large bump right above his brow. Harry was not ever sure why he did what he did next. Perhaps it was the ridiculously sadistic day that he had endured. Or maybe it was his mind finally shattering under all the strain, and all the injuries to his head, he received through all the years.

But he laughed.

Harry James Potter laughed so hard he was doubled up in pain with tears slipping from beneath his lids. He laughed so hard his throat felt as if it was being shredded with a butter knife. He laughed so hard he fell on the floor, curled on the tiles, laughing while sobs shook and rattled him further...

Then, the laughing died down slowly, and he got up with a sad, watery smile. With no intention to sleep he left the bathroom and roamed the house. Harry didn't really care if his Uncle saw him or not. He didn't care about a lot of things anymore.

How many times did he examine the same exact things in that torture cell they called a house? How many times had he found something he had long forgotten about that uncovered memories he built brick walls around? Eventually, he found a place that tickled his mind in a funny way. Some place that he always thought to remember but forgot the instant his letters came and a better place for safety and privacy came with them.

He remembered the attic.

_His_ attic.

It was not really his, of course. But it might as well had been. Harry only went up there at every available moment until _they _found out. The instant _they_ did, _they_ forbade him to ever take step into the dusty, spider web ridden place "little Harry" had ever really considered as close to a home he would ever get.

Now things were different. Now Harry was older, stronger, and smarter than he once was. He was also a well trained wizard, not to mention a famous one, and was not nearly as afraid of his family's wrath as he once had been. That was saying a lot, since Uncle Vernon just beat him mere hours ago. Rubbing the ring in his pocket, Harry turned the door to the "sacred" attic...

And found that it was locked.

Harry began whispering frantic profanities under his breath as he struggled with the door. He wanted it open, no _needed _it opened. It had something in there to preserve his sanity. How else could he had survived all these years? There was no memory of the time he spent up there except that it was _good_. It was a very_ good_ place.

Failing to open the heavily locked door, Harry searched his pockets for the handy bobby pin, or a straightened paper clip.

Nothing. Nothing there except for his necklace and Harry had the distinct feeling it could not help in situations such as this.

On the opposite side of the hall, he slid slowly down the wall, staring at the locks and wishing they would melt right of the door because-

_Those fucking Dursley's leave me with nothing of worth. Nothing at all. No happiness, no health, not even one friend! They __couldn't even let me have a small, old space they don't even use! How could they treat any child- any human- any living being __like this? Like they deserve nothing else BUT TO ROT IN A FIERY HELL?_

Those words, thought with such a raged passion, made Harry feel like he was back in school for fifth year, screaming at his friends and making Hermione tear up more than once. But he always felt so... powerful while he was angry. That was how he felt now, only he was slightly more perceptive. There was a wind floating around his ears and gently lifting his hair. Then he felt warm, just like he was in Hell, or at least walking into it. On instinct, Harry looked up at the attic door.

The locks were all melted. They dripped into a puddle on the floor and a memory slapped Harry in the face.

_He looked down..._

_Puddle..._

_Floor..._

_Sirius..._

_"How could you-"_

Harry snatched the ring and tightened his fist around it and started blinking rapidly, for tears were already welling up in them. Then he kicked open the door, stepped over the mess, and walked into the attic- a place he hasn't been in for over six years.

The days' first rays of sunlight streamed through the dusty window blinds on a single, small window. Dust thickly covered everything in sight. As he stepped tentatively inside, his footsteps were padded by it. Coughing and swatting spider webs out of his face, he continued to explore.

_Why wasn't I allowed up here?_

A small cardboard box caught Harry's eye. It was directly under the window and he knew there was _something_ in there that he wanted. Maybe even needed. What was it? He knew he _should_ remember. Why couldn't he remember?

Kneeling before the small, tattered box, Harry blew the dust off and gently lifted the folds.

Books.

Composition books and ripped up paper that looked like notes and doodles _everywhere._ Crayons. Paper so old it looked like lined parchment. Pens with rusty ball points and pencils with cracked lead. Harry stared at it all, the familiar nagging feeling screaming at him to _remember._

But he did not remember, and he was starting to wonder why he was up there at all.

Picking up a folded note and examining it, Harry gasped.

The memories slapped him in the face.

_I hope Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never find out about what I do in the attic. They won't ever let me come up here again. They might lock the door, too. Dudley saw me sneaking about yesterday and I think he knows. I have to find a better place to hide the key or they will find it and take it away then make me stay in the cupboard without food again. I don't want that. I get really hungry sometimes and think about eating the spiders. But the spiders don't do nothing to me and I might miss them when they are gone._

"Merlin. This is mine."

Then he heard a noise behind him and turned around.

Aunt Petunia stared at him with too-large eyes as he held the ancient note in his hands.

"You shouldn't be up here," she whispered somberly.

"Why not?" Harry replied, his voice cracking. "What else could Vernon possibly do that hasn't already happened?"

Petunia shook her blond head. "He'll kill you."

Somehow, the thought did not bother Harry. At all. "So?"

She shook her head as her eyes scanned the area. "You are leaving today."

Harry didn't bother to ask how she knew. He shrugged.

"Maybe you can take some of this junk with you?" Petunia looked odd. Resigned to everything somehow.

"Why would I want to do that?"

Aunt Petunia looked into his tired, green eyes. "There are pictures here. Old things from a long time ago. Pictures of you. Pictures of your parents. Some of your mother's things that weren't or survived being in her house when he- he came and killed her. Maybe stuff that belonged to your- your father as well. I don't know. I haven't really looked."

_That's why I'm not allowed up here._

Harry nodded, trying to contain his anger. He's been up here so many times and never found anything of his parents' and _now _she tells him this!

Petunia walked over to some wooden chests. They had heavy, rusty locks the size of Harry's fist locking the heavy links of chains together that bound them. He watched her bend down and hold the dusty chains in her hands. Then she got up and left. Harry waited in the middle of the attic until his aunt came back holding a ring of keys.

Silently, she knelt on the floor and unlocked every lock on the several boxes. One by one, the chains sagged and clinked onto the wooden floor. It made such a clatter that Harry was positive Vernon would wake up. Petunia didn't look worried, though. Why would she be? Vernon never hurt _her._ Harry decided to asked anyway.

"I gave Vernon some sleeping pills last night after he came barging in. I snuck them into a sandwich. He'll be asleep until noon at the latest," she explained as she got up and started to leave.

_Sandwich? I didn't see her in the kitchen._ Then Harry realized it must have been while he was having a fit in the bathroom.

She turned back for a moment, her blue eyes regretful but her voice cold and bitter. "I want all this stuff packed and ready to leave by then, or else Vernon will raise all Hell. And so you know, I'm not taking the blame for any of this."

She still didn't like him, but it was better than hating him.

Harry waited until she was out of sight, then he approached the chests of his parents' things with caution. The first box was full of old photos and letters. Some were wizarding, some weren't. Many were singed and edged with black. Harry picked up a picture of his mum. Young and beautiful in Hogwarts school robes, it seemed it was her final year by the dates on the back. It showed her beaming as she brandished her wand like an expert.

_She could have been a model,_ Harry thought as he watched her bright coppery hair gleam around her pretty face. The familiar almond shaped eyes startled him slightly. Those were the same eyes he looked into the mirror with everyday.

His grip on the photograph lessened and it slowly fluttered back into the box. Tears stung Harry's eyes, but he ignored them and shut the chest with an audible_ snap! _A part of him wasn't ready to look at how life was for his parents.

They would be so ashamed of the way he turned out.

Heaving the heavy things in his arms, he carried his parents memories away and into his cupboard.

Half an hour later, Harry knelt in front of the other box. The one with _his _memories. His legs began to cramp, so he sat cross-legged. As he did, a sharp pain seemed to stab him from his backside up. Like electric lights, the words blared in his head.

_Raped._

_You were raped._

Then he clutched the ring and forgot. A box full of his childhood beckoned him like chocolate covered sweets. His stomach growled angrily, so he picked up another crumbling note.

A swirl of colors ran across it and he found himself looking at a picture of someone who looked like Hagrid, riding a flying motor bike and holding a bundle in his arms.

_That's me,_ Harry thought, staring at the small bundle of blankets where a tiny face peered out happily. How many times had Hagrid told him about flying across England on a motorbike, holding a baby Harry in his arms? The drawing was crude, the colors abnormal, but Harry tucked it away in his jeans pocket and picked up the box.

_Time to pack, _he thought as he lugged the box down the attic steps. The melted metal was gone. Apparently, Aunt Petunia cleaned it before it dried.

Too bad.

As he descended the steps to the first floor, a shocking shade of pink hair startled him and Harry tripped, eyes drawn to the bright color. He held the lid of the box against his stomach so nothing fell out, but that didn't stop him from tumbling violently down the staircase. Tonks looked down on him as he lay on his back, stars dancing in front of his eyes. Her face a cross between amused and worried.

"You all right there, Harry? That was quite a fall," she said timidly as she held out a hand to help him up. She was staring hard at his face.

_The bruise._

He got up and hid his face with his rapidly grown hair.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Harry glanced around. "Where's the rest of the guard?" he asked, feeling confused and left out.

Tonks giggled, then stopped when she saw he was serious. "We don't need a guard anymore, Harry. With the Ministry off our tail, we can just floo or use port keys again."

Harry didn't like the thought of either, but did not say so.

"So," she continued briskly, "where's your trunk?"

Harry pointed to the cupboard and shifted on his feet. "I have a lot more stuff than last time..."

Tonks brushed him off as she opened the cupboard door. Her eyes widened as she took it all in. A full trunk, three chests, and that wasn't counting the cardboard box at Harry's feet.

"Well..." Her cheery demeanor returned in just seconds. She coughed lightly. "Well, we won't be able to carry all this by port key. So lets just," she levitated his box so it was sitting near his trunk and banished the lot with a single wave of her wand.

Harry couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

Seeing his face, Tonks explained. "Don't worry, it's all just going to the Weasleys'. Luckily, my banishing spells aren't as bad as my domestic ones."

Harry silently agreed.

"Wait a minute, the Weasleys'? I thought I was going to..." He could not bring himself to say it.

Tonks laid a hand on his bruised shoulder and squeezed, thinking it was comforting rather than painful. "We, ah, as in the Headmaster thought it was a good idea to send you to the Burrow instead. Now that everything is a little calmer, you should be safe there. Oddly enough, Snape thought it was a good idea as well..."

Lost in thought, she said no more. Harry coughed and she started. "Oh! Well, I suppose you would like to say good bye first-"

"No," Harry interrupted.

She looked surprised. "Are you-"

"I just want to leave. Please," he added as an afterthought.

Tonks compliantly pulled out a small box. She opened it and inside shone a silver ring with an onyx gemstone in the center. Harry gasped.

It was Sirius's.

"He wanted you to have it," Tonks said lightly. "I was supposed to make it into a port key then give it to you after we landed. See? Hitting two birds with one stone," her voice wavered in uncertainty.

"It's all right," Harry said, smiling in encouragement though his heart felt like it was being squeezed with a fist.

Seeing the gleaming silver, Harry was reminded of Remus. He wondered why he didn't come to get him. He said so much to Tonks.

"Remus is still recovering from his monthly transformation," she said slowly.

"Oh, yeah..." Harry thought for a moment, then spoke again. "How could he touch that ring if it was made of silver?"

"It wasn't made of silver. It was made of iron and glamoured to look like silver with all types of enchantments." She giggled lightly. "Or else Sirius would hurt Remus every time he touched him," Tonks suddenly smirked. "And they touched _a lot."_

The comment rattled Harry. It was true. They _had _touched a lot. But they were friends, right? _Of course _they touched a lot!

_Friends don't touch like that, Harry. They were something else._

Harry didn't understand, and the confusion was evident on his face. Tonks quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

"Oops..."

"What do you-"

_"Portus,"_ she whispered, holding the tip of her wand to the black onyx of the ring. It glowed a brilliant blue before fading quickly.

"C'mon, Harry, touch the ring."

Harry did so, but he had the distinct feeling she was hiding something from him.

"Five, four, three, two- here we go, hold on tight!"

Harry had to even if he didn't want to. The ring seemed permanently glued to his finger as he got sucked in. Then, as soon as it started, it stopped. Harry lay in a heap on what seemed a very bumpy and disfigured cushion.

"AAARRGGGHH! GET OFF OF ME!" A shrill voice screamed and Harry was thrown from his uncomfortable spot onto a real cushion.

"Hmmm," Tonks laughed to herself. "Seems I miscalculated..."

Ginny Weasley lay on the floor with a red angry face, but didn't bother to reply. The rest of the room laughed at her. She glared at Harry and Tonks fiercely before stomping off.

"I swear," a familiar voice said.

"Her temper gets worse everyday," another voice finished.

Harry looked up to see Fred and George. He beamed at them, his heart lightening already. "Hullo."

He didn't get the reply he was expecting.

"Merlin, Harry! What happened to your _face_?" Fred exclaimed as George gaped.

Arthur elbowed him.

"Oh, yeah."

"Hi!" George said in false cheerfulness, cottoning on.

"So, did you have a fight with a bludger, Harry?" Fred continued conversationally.

Arthur shook his head and walked away. Keeping the twins in line obviously wasn't worth the will power it took.

Harry quickly glanced around the cluttered house. "I er, I er..."

Then he saw a pair of bright red boxing gloves laying in the corner of a room, along with a whistle and a rubber ducky. Refusing the urge to snort, Harry replied with, "Oh, yeah. _That._ I um, got into a fight." Seeing their doubting looks, he added, "Uh, _several_ fights."

"With Dudley's friends."

Suddenly, Arthur's eyes widened. "Oh, yes! Albus explained to me about that! Is it true they stole your glasses, Harry? We'll have to buy you a new pair..."

"No!" Harry said loudly, not wanting to spend any of their money. "It's fine. I'm getting my eyes fixed by Snape."

"Professor Snape, dear," Molly Weasley said fondly as she strolled back into the kitchen to make lunch.

"_Snape?_ Wow, I wouldn't want to be you, Harry," a voice behind him said. Harry's eyes lit up.

"Ron!"

"Hey mate," Ron greeted, smiling. His eyes lingered on the bruise, but he just lead Harry up to his room.

* * *

Harry loved being at the Weasley's, he really did, but it was so hard to hide things from them. Always wearing long sleeves... never eating too much... hiding his face with his hair every available moment in their presence... That was not even counting the nightmares that haunted his sleep... Sleep with _that _word, sleep with _those_ memories... 

_Raped._

_Raped._

_Raped._

_You were raped._

He was able to shield everything from the Weasley clan so far. Never getting undressed in front of them, wearing long sleeved shirts and letting his shaggy mop of hair cover his expressions. Mrs. Weasley tried numerous times to cut it off, saying it was unnatural how quickly it grew, but he would not let her. Instead, when they asked, he said it hid his scar. She left him alone, only prodding once in a while.

When morning broke, he jumped out of bed (Mr. Weasley transfigured it from a sleeping bag) and _ran_ to the bathroom. The water was steaming hot and Harry scrubbed at his skin until it was pink. Then he rubbed shampoo in his hair so hard several loose strands curled themselves around his fingers. Then he got out and realized he forgot to get fresh clothes.

He looked down to see the ones on the floor were sopping wet with water, sweat, and-

_"Shite."_

Blood stains on the back of his shirt. His cuts must have reopened again! Making sure the towel covered his back completely, Harry tiptoed down the hall. It was nerve-wracking, but just when he thought he was home free-

"Oh my-Harry!" Ginny was looking at him with wide eyes.

"What-what are you doing here?" Harry asked, painfully aware of all the bruises and cuts on his arms and legs.

Ginny blinked. "I _live _here."

"You know what I mean!"

Then he saw Hermione peaking over her shoulder.

"It's time for breakfast. God, Harry, those muggles really did a number on you. And you're so skinny! I mean, yeah, you were skinny before but now-"

Harry ran for Ron's room before Ginny could continue in her pointless rambling.

* * *

It all seemed to go down hill from there. 

At breakfast Harry looked at all the different kinds of foods. He had to be careful. Eating too much made him throw up more than once in the last week and Hermione never seemed to take her eyes off of him.

_She knows. She knows how screwed up and weak you are. She knows that-_

Harry grabbed the necklace around his neck. The ring a constant reminder to stay calm and clear his mind. Yet, Hermione's penetrating gaze never left him. She barely spoke to him, and that could mean only one thing- she was saving it for a long ranting talk... or a lengthy questioning.

He nibbled on a piece of toast, unsure of whether he should leave the table early to get a head start or stay late and wait for her to leave. As it turns out, he left when Ron left. It was better to seem calm rather than anxious. Harry needed to lie, and lie damn well at that.

But when Hermione cornered him in the hallway, he had nothing to say.

"Harry, Ginny told me you got into a fight. Is that true? You should know better than that! And why haven't you let anybody heal you? Are you _proud_ of your irresponsible actions?"

Harry looked Hermione up and down coolly. "Actually, Mr. Weasley thought it was good of me to have a reminder of what I did. You know, so it won't happen again. _I _didn't have a choice in the matter. Though, he did ask me if I particularly cared, which I didn't." This was a lie. Mr. Weasley never mentioned the bruise and Harry never prompted him.

She wouldn't give up. "Well," she started, narrowing her eyes. "why didn't you ask them to heal the _rest of you?_ Oh, wait, I know why! _Because_ _you didn't tell them._"

Heart pounding, Harry clenched his fists. Since when did Hermione become so vicious? "It is _my_ business, Hermione, and I would prefer that you _skive off _and mind your own," he forced through his gritted teeth.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't stomp off in a huff. Instead, she sighed. "Harry, I'm not here to hurt you, so you can stop being so self-defensive. I'm your _friend_ and I want to _help you._ Ginny and I saw all your injuries, and we're worried. You haven't told any of the adults about it, which means you must be hiding something."

Not knowing what to say, he apologized and covered his face with his hair.

"Don't do that," she said, lifting his chin and flicking away all of the shaggy hair. "You have the most beautiful eyes, and to just hide them like that should be a crime..."

They were so close. _So close_. It didn't feel right to be like this with Hermione; _Hermione_ of all people! But he was and he could not manage to walk away. But she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You are my brother, Harry, and I love you..." she whispered softly into his ear.

_Love me? She loves me? How many people have ever said that to me? Only a handful. How can she love me when I'm always lying to her and deceiving her..._

It was not the right time for questions. So Harry replied, "I love you, too, Hermione."

Then a door slammed in the distance and everything was quiet.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Ginny, oh no, she thinks that-"

They locked eyes.

"I thought she..." Harry stuttered...

Hermione shook her bushy head. "Don't you know anything about girls? Oh, look who I'm asking!" she exclaimed before kissing him on the cheek and running down the hall.

"Hey," Harry yelled, recovering too late. "what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

* * *

As it turns out, Hermione had a point. Harry _didn't_ know anything about girls. Ginny was acting very cold and distant from him and he didn't know why. She was also constantly ignoring Hermione. Nobody knew what was wrong with her, for the exception of maybe Hermione, and she wasn't even telling anyone. 

As the middle of August came increasingly closer, Harry eventually forgot about the hostile acting Ginny and began worrying about his own problems. His wounds were healing slowly. Very slowly. Sometimes they reopened completely and bled in unfortunate places. Like Mrs. Weasley's fluffly white towels. Harry was afraid of the questions that might be asked, so he did something foolish. He hid them in his trunk.

There were a lot of marks on his body now. Dark scars, pink scars, yellow scars...puncture marks and bruises. Well, most of the bruises were healed, but the bigger ones stayed.

It was getting hard to run about in the hot summer sun in full autumn wear. The Weasley's kept bothering him to wear something else, Fred even threatened to banish all of his clothes right off his body if he didn't. Thankfully, he didn't go through with his threat. Harry had to note that Ginny wasn't looking so displeased at the prospect of seeing him naked. Or letting the others see him naked and covered in marks. Hermione, however, intervened.

_Like a proper friend,_ Harry thought indignantly.

A trip for Diagon Alley was scheduled the next morning and Harry went to sleep feeling as if everything was starting to go his way.

How wrong he was.

In fact, things were going to become about ten times worse.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry about the late update. School has been hassling me, but now that it's ending now I should be able to update more frequently. This chapter is a little longer than the others and it'sthe gasp second Harry chapter in a row. In fact, there'll be another Harry chapter before Draco comes in. Sorry for all the rabid Draco fans (waves banner) but a lot more happens to Harry that I need to write so you will all understand where he's coming from. I'm planning to write two or three more chapters before HBP comes out, but I might write more. Or less. shrugs You can never tell with the way I do things. But, take note that, this story will NEVER EVER be abandoned. I've been planning too long, and working too hard, to do that. All you Hazardous Sanity fans should be getting an update soon, as well. Reviews make me update quicker and they feed my muse, just so you know ;)**

**A/N 7/12/05: Okay, edited the weird spacing issues this was having ;) New update coming soon, btw!**


	8. Diagon Alley and The Hogwarts Express

**Disclaimer / WARNING: I do not own, or claim to own Harry Potter. There is cutting in this chapter, for those who find this offensive, or are cutters themselves that are trying to stop (me, actually) and think this may cause a relapse, stop reading here. **

_**By Dianna Tuohy On 6/19/05**_

**Chapter Eight: Diagon Alley And The Hogwarts Express**

_Today I fell and felt better,_

_Just knowing this matters,_

_I just feel stronger and sharper,_

_Found a box of sharp objects what a beautiful thing_

A Box Full Of Sharp Objects by The Used

--..--..--

"_Stop it!"_

"_Uh, uh, uhhhh… You know you… want it slut. Shut the fuck up." Sweat dripped from Piers brow as he thrust harder, deeper. _

"_S-stop!"_

_Pier's muffled his voice with a cigarette flavored kiss. He moved away shortly as Harry began to gag and grunted a word into his ear with every thrust-_

"_**You-Belong-To-Me."**_

--..--..--

Harry's eyes popped open. His heart was beating wildly. The pajamas Ron let him borrow clung to his sweaty body. He soon realized he wasn't breathing and inhaled a gasp of air.

"_**You-Belong-To-Me."**_

Harry tried to stay stable, he really did. But the memory, locked away for so many days and still so fresh, attacked him.

"_**You-Belong-To-Me."**_

He could practically feel the heat, the pain and Pier's body rubbing against him. The smell of sweat invading his lungs and the moans and groans that always haunted him when he couldn't touch his ring…

_My ring! Where is my ring?_

Harry's hands scrabbled feverishly against his chest looking for the cool reassuring touch of his serpent ring. But it wasn't there. His hands grew more frantic and desperate as he scratched at his neck searching for it. Soon he gave up and rummaged through his bed. All the while the memories attacked his brain…

"WHERE IS IT?" he finally yelled, grasping his hair in frustration.

Harry fell to the floor hugging himself desperately. How could he not realize how much he needed it now? The pain… the unrelenting pain… Sirius… The prophecy… Piers… His uncle… It was if all the wounds were freshly given to him just moments after he woke up.

_Oh, God… Oh, God… It hurts so much… Please make it stop… Please make it stop…_

"Harry! Harry, are you all right? Is it You-Know-Who?"

Harry sobbed, rocking his body in an effort to comfort it.

Ron's lanky legs knelt near him and his face peered closely into his own. "Harry, mate, are you okay?" he asked, tentatively placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. He looked horrified to see his friend in this state.

Harry choked slightly as he tried to speak. "Ring… I lost my… ring." It didn't sound ridiculous at all at that moment. To Harry, it seemed to be the most important thing in the world.

"Your ring? Um, okay. I'll help you find it, then. What does it look like?" Ron asked quickly, trying to calm Harry down a bit.

"S-snake. On a chain. It's a snake on a chain." Harry forced out.

The red head looked obviously bothered by the notion that Harry would have a "snake on a chain" but he looked anyway. Harry clutched his heart; it felt like it was being torn. He hoped desperately that Ron would find his ring soon.

Ron searched on Harry's bed, finding nothing, and then he searched under the bed, and found nothing. He began to search near Harry and he couldn't find it there, either. Ron got up feeling quite exasperated and felt something cool against his toe. He bent down and picked it up. It was a long silver chain with a ring hanging off of it. He brought it up to his face and examined the small snake biting the tip of its tail and furrowed his brow before giving it back to Harry.

Harry held the ring tightly in his fist, swearing to himself that he was never going to lose it again. Ron watched him quietly before going back to his bed. There was a silent agreement between them; they were to never speak of this again.

"G'night, Harry."

"Night, Ron."

--..--..--

Harry felt as if he just went to sleep when he was being shaken awake again by Mrs.Weasley. "Harry, wake up dear. We're spending the whole day in Diagon Alley, remember?"

Harry remembered. He jumped out of bed, nearly knocking poor Molly off of her feet. She beamed at him and went to wake up Ron as Harry pulled some things out of his trunk and went to shower.

--..--..--

"Really, Harry, I don't think you need all of those," Hermione lightly scolded as she watched him struggle with a large bag of clothes.

Harry grinned at her and tried not to look at Ron's face. He had spent a whole bag of galleons on new clothing. (Which was desperately needed, mind. His current pants were falling right off his backside, even _with _a belt.) But he still felt guilty about doing it in the presence of Ron. Several times he tried to buy his friend something, but Ron would always refuse, his ears turning a brilliant pink. So he turned to Hermione, who always gave and accepted gifts with ease, and bought _her_ stuff. She seemed awfully happy. It was very unlike her to be so light hearted.

Harry's clothes weren't the best he could buy. They were average and comfortable. All he wanted was something new that fit him; it didn't need to be worth a hundred galleons apiece, like how Malfoy's outfits often looked.

_How strange. I haven't thought once of Malfoy almost the entire summer…_

Hermione interrupted his thoughts shortly after they started. "Harry," she said cheerfully. "Ron and I are going for an ice cream, want to come along?"

Harry furrowed his brow. Why didn't she automatically assume he was coming? Something was off…

"Uh, no thanks. I think I'll go off on my own for a bit," he replied slowly, deciding to take the chance to be alone. It might be his last for a while.

As Hermione walked off, arm in arm with Ron, Harry noticed the delicate floral scent that always seemed to cling to his nostrils was fading. He sniffed the air once more, and set off down the cobble roads of Diagon Alley.

Harry walked first to _Whitehall's Winking Diamonds._ He thought the name was quite strange and out of place, but when he hesitantly stepped into the shop, he understood why. There were jewels _everywhere. _They sparkled and twinkled and actually seemed to wink tantalizingly.

Usually, Harry would not ever walk into such a shop with so many expensive items. But now he would have walked into a mansion made of solid gold to find out the information he was about to inquire about. He held his serpent ring in his hands, the chain being repetitively twisted and untwisted in his nervous fingers.

"Hello, may I help you?" A white haired lady at the counter greeted him. She looked at his old clothes with distaste (the Weasley children all thought it too hot for robes) and Harry had the feeling he was unwanted.

Deciding he didn't really care, he greeted her back and pulled out his ring.

"I'm sorry, _sir._" she said, sticking up her nose at him in disgust. "We don't purchase second-hand items here. Perhaps you would be happier down the road." She motioned toward the downtown part of Diagon Alley, where a lot of the cheaper shops were located.

Harry grit his teeth. He disliked people like her. They reminded him of the Malfoy family. Harry didn't notice that that was the second time he thought of Malfoy that day.

"I am not here to sell this," he said with forced politeness. "I am here to see if you can find out anything _about it_. I am willing to," he jiggled the gold in his pocket, "pay."

With the jangle of money the clerk's demeanor changed instantly. "Oh yes, of course sir." She picked up the ring by its chain and held it between her thumb and forefinger while staring intently at the serpent's glittering emerald eyes. The women seemed perturbed. Harry coughed and her head snapped up.

"I will need to hold this for about an hour. If you are willing to let me, that is," she said, bowing her head slightly in small sign of respect.

"I take it that you are Whitewall?" Harry asked.

The woman seemed ruffled. "It's White_hall_, and yes, I am. Victoria Whitehall."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. Sure, you can hold it." He eyed all of the jewelry. He cleared his throat carefully.

"Also, I was wondering if you had anything of interest to teenage girls. About fifteen or so."

Whitehall smiled; it looked like quite a greedy smile.

"Oh yes, we certainly do."

--..--..--

Harry walked down the street a half an hour later with a bag from _Whitehall's_. He was to roam for another thirty minutes, then go back and check out what information the woman has found. But with every step he took, he seemed to get weaker and more depressed. With every step he took… the memories invaded his mind ferociously.

A man passed, he had a rat-like face and lightly bumped into Harry.

"_**You-Belong-To-Me."**_

A lock of black hair caught his eye.

"_**Why did you kill me, Harry?"**_

His back suddenly ached horribly.

_**CRACK!**_

Harry lost his footing and stumbled down the street, narrowly missing several people and knocking over a small child eating a bogey flavored ice cream cone. He soon found himself in a dark alley, remembering things the ring often made him forget and reliving the pain the ring often dulled.

Somebody stepped into the ally way soon after Harry did. They had dragon hide boots and silky black robes. As he looked up, he saw the Malfoy family crest sewn onto the person's chest. It was Draco Malfoy.

Harry was in so much pain, so much _agony _that seeing Malfoy cracked something inside of him. It was like a small light was shown in the dark cavern of his mind. He could hate him, and hate him, and it seemed to distract him. Harry felt so darkened, so abandoned, and so very malevolentthat it felt good to see somebody he could cause pain to and not feel guilty.

Harry simply looked at Malfoy, examining him.

Malfoy looked back; he seemed confused.

They stayed like that for a few moments. Gray eyes meeting green. Waiting for the other to make a move. Time stretched out and still nothing happened. Then Malfoy walked hurriedly away, nearly tripping over his robes.

Harry would have laughed if he wasn't in so much pain. But he was, and he hoped he would be able to move to get his ring back. He checked his watch and saw that he had about another thirty minutes. Harry groaned, trying to empty his mind like Snape had tried to teach him so long ago…

_Blank, blank. Think of nothing. Think of nothing._

_**Fingers tangled themselves into Harry's hair, snapping his head back.**_

_Blank, blank. Think of nothing. Think of nothing._

_**Gasping moans whispered against his ear as another body rubbed against his own.**_

_Blank, blank. Think of… nothing. Think of nothing…_

_**A needle filled slowly with burgundy liquid from Harry's arm. His mind was blank… Oh, so blank…Empty with fascination of watching his blood be taken. His arm tingled slightly as it fought being asleep and Harry duly noted that Snape's hand grasped his upper arm very hard indeed. He seemed to want to stop the circulation or something.**_

That was when something sparked.

If blood was the thing to make his mind blank, then why not spill his own?

_Yes, a tantalizing voice whispered into his ear. Why not spill your own blood? It is no harm. You've already spilled so many others'. _

_It was a mechanical response. Harry burrowed through his bags of muggle clothes. He found a pair of black jeans that had a safety pin holding the tag to it. The pin was a gold color and there for merely decoration, since the tag could have been attached with a cheaper plastic. Harry took the pin off and examined the sharp point. Then, after taking a shallow breath, he pressed it against the underside of his arm and dragged it harshly to his wrist._

He stared at the cut. It barely pierced the skin. Small droplets of blood somehow managed to squeeze out and Harry planted his eyes on them. The point wasn't sharp enough. It was frustrating and Harry checked his watch. Fifteen more minutes until he had to be at the shop.

He got up and pulled down his sleeve. A stinging sensation came from his cut, but it felt relieving also. Soon he was hurrying down the streets back to Whitehall's jewelry shop.

"Yes?"

Harry looked at her with a haunted face. "Are you finished yet?"

Whitehall nodded, but not with much certainty. "I may need this longer. I have done some research, and found very little."

Harry sighed, his heart plummeting into his stomach.

"How much longer?" he asked darkly.

"A week, perhaps more."

Harry eyed the ring in her fingers, and rubbed his face with his hands. The decision wasn't pleasant, not at all, but he had to stop acting so reckless.

_**Keep it, an enticing voice in his head whispered. Who cares about its history? She's just trying to keep it to herself.**_

The overwhelming urge to jump up and take his ring back was stifled, and Harry relented to her wishes. "Another week. How will I know when you're finished?"

Whitehall considered this. "I will owl you."

"How much do I pay?" Harry asked with sudden thought.

She smiled. "Considering the difficulty in finding information I will charge you… ten galleons for each day of research."

Harry outright stared at her, but made no comment.

"Sir, you have not yet told me your name. I will need it to get in contact with you," she said.

Harry turned to go, "My name is Harry. Harry Potter."

He was out of the door so fast he missed her gasp of surprise and the look of dumb shock pass on her face.

--..--..--

Ron and Hermione smiled at him as he struggled passed the large crowd. Hermione had her arm hooked with his and her eyes looked strangely blank, though her smile was bright. Harry examined her carefully. Ron shifted on his feet.

"What's the matter with her?" Harry asked, completely ignoring the fact that she was less than a foot away.

Ron's ears turned pink. He bit his lip and grinned; it looked forced. "What are you talking about, mate? She's fine. Right, Hermione?" He elbowed her in the side.

A smile too happy to be normal broke out on her face. "I'm fine, Harry," her voice was high and saccharine sweet. "Really."

Harry didn't believe her for a minute.

"All right… Ron, let's find your mum."

--..--..--

It was the last day of summer vacation. The air smelled sweet outside in the Weasley's garden and as the family sat outside and ate, Harry inhaled greedily. All the Weasley's were there, with the exception of Percy. He seemed either too ashamed or too angry to want to have anything to do with his family just yet. Harry narrowed his eyes as he thought of the letter Ron got from him last year and he was glad he wasn't here or Percy may have been grievously injured.

He watched Ron and Hermione carefully. He didn't care if they got together, he really didn't. He expected it for about as long as he could remember. Despite what a lot of people thought, he wasn't _that _oblivious. It's just that… _It was wrong. _Hermione wasn't acting like her usual self _at all._ She seemed more like a bushy haired version of Lavender or Parvati now.

Harry picked up his fork and began eating. He wore long sleeves. This was for two reasons. One, he still had some marks from being at the Dursley's and two, he had more cuts and scars from his recently acquired "hobby". As he thought of this, his fingers twitched while they ached to pull down his sleeves. There was nothing for it though. Harry couldn't eat and keep his sleeves from showing his wrists. It was suspicious and unnecessary because nobody really paid any attention to what his arms looked like.

He frowned at the group around the table. Nobody noticed what he was doing. Nobody noticed the deep scars and clotted cuts. Nobody noticed the thin trail of dried blood on his wrist. He wondered if that was because they didn't see them, or because they didn't _want_ to see them. He took another bite and pulled his arms on his lap.

Snape hadn't returned to continue fixing his eyesight. Harry wondered why very briefly. He honestly didn't care. Just as long as the charms the adults put on him kept working.

There was an edge of melancholy in the air. It bit at the inside of Harry's stomach and he sighed deeply. Everyone else seemed happy, why wasn't he? The group was cheerful and bright, the scene was beautiful, the food was good, but he was sad. All he wanted to do was crawl up in his transfigured bed and sleep. Or brood. Or maybe clean his cuts that Ron interrupted him in making. It was uncomfortable, sitting in the midst of his friends and knowing dry blood caked his arms. The mask he had to wear to stave off suspicion was tiring.

Sensing his unhappiness, Fred grinned at him. "So, how's life been treating you Harry? You never did tell us about that fight." He winked.

Wrong thing to say.

Harry forced a grin in return, something he's been doing a lot lately, and got up abruptly. He automatically regretted it when all the heads at the table swiveled in his direction. "I, er, I'm a bit tired. I think I'll go to sleep early today. Busy day tomorrow, you know." This little announcement was so fake and brittle that when he spoke it, he could practically hear it break in his ears.

But no one objected when he turned toward the house, so he increased his pace and began rubbing his itchy arms.

--..--..--

"'Arry, wake up," a gruff voice mumbled to Harry as he shook his shoulder.

Harry's eyelids felt heavy. He was still very tired. Ron struggled to walk without tripping over the various clothes strewn about. Somehow he managed to get out of the room without causing himself harm. Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his aching arms. Cloth from his sleeves stuck to his skin where blood soaked through it. He pulled them away roughly and winced. The wounds started bleeding again.

"What a brilliant start of the day," he said in a mix of disgust and bitterness.

The bitterness subsided, however, when he realized what day it was. September first. He was going back to Hogwarts! Soon he had all of his things packed and a new set of muggle clothing shielding the view of his arms. When Ron came in, holding a towel around his waist loosely Harry went to take a shower but paused.

He turned around. Ron was bending over his drawers and picking out his socks and underwear. His body was sleek with water. Droplets of it fell from his fiery red hair and Harry couldn't help but watch as it fell onto the curves of his body. Then he realized he was standing in the middle of his best friend's room and staring at his barely covered form. Harry shook his head, wondering what the Hell was wrong with him, and walked out.

The shower was somewhat calming. It was cold enough to bring Harry out of any inappropriate thoughts about Ron.

_Not that I have any, he thought to himself furiously as he soaped up his body. I like girls, not guys. I was just… interested. I never saw so much of Ron's body before. I was just curious. Yeah, that's it. I was curious. It's perfectly normal to look at boys like that once in a while. It is nature. It's normal. It is._

Then the sudden image of Piers holding his arms down and leering at him crudely flashed in his mind. A wave of nausea hit him and Harry promptly stumbled out of the shower and threw up in the toilet. Then he coughed as he wiped his mouth and realized tears were running down his face. Instinctively he reached for his ring. It wasn't there and it took several moments to remember why. When Harry did remember, however, he just got up and searched the small bathroom for what he wanted.

After crawling around on the floor and searching the cabinets, Harry found a razor. He took out the blade and sat on the toilet seat calmly. This was what took him away. This was what could make him numb, or make him feel when he wanted it to. Whatever he wanted, this little slice of metal could do. Harry held the sharpened edge to his arm and winced only slightly as he shoved it down and dragged it smoothly.

--..--..--

Harry was pleased to know that Mr. Weasley was able to get some ministry cars to bring them all to Platform 9 ¾. Arthur hinted that the reason they were getting them was because Fudge felt guilty about all that happened in the past year. Bill Weasley snorted and leaned in close to Harry.

"Heh, guilty. The only reason Fudge is lending us these cars is because he wants to protect his career. He wouldn't know guilt if it bit him in the arse."

Harry snorted as well, but felt uneasy with the older man's closeness. Bill's fiery red hair tickled his cheek as he spoke and when his breath was against his ear, Harry felt an odd flipping sensation in his stomach. When Bill moved away Harry was both thankful and regretful. It felt so _nice _to have a friendly presence so close but these feelings didn't feel right. Harry was unaccustomed to them, though they felt familiar, he couldn't recall when he last had them.

Hermione was attempting to chat with a still very stubbornly angry Ginny. They seemed to have made up, but she was still acting cold every chance she got to both Harry and Hermione. It was very confusing for Harry. Why would Ginny be angry with him? He stopped trying to ask Hermione. She was acting so strange and unlike herself that Harry found he didn't enjoy her company any longer. In fact, he avoided her tirelessly.

The trip to Platform 9 ¾ was uneventful. The handsome cars had no trouble getting there on time through the traffic. Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie all slept in late and said they would meet them there by apparation. Harry was forced to listen as Ron ranted in jealousy about the subject ("It isn't bloody fair!") on the ride there. When they arrived however, Ron seemed to forget all about it in excitement of returning to school. Well, the Welcoming Feast, mostly.

They carted their belongings through the crowds of milling muggles. Some of them gave the group strange looks, and Harry couldn't blame them. It wasn't everyday that a family of redheads, a bushy haired girl with a giant orange cat, and a small skinny boy with a scar shaped as a lightening bolt walked through the platform with trunks and owls. And that wasn't mentioning the old, worn robes Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wore. Harry grinned brightly at them all and leaned into the supposedly solid barrier to platform 9 ¾.

The Hogwarts express was there in all its glory. They all had about ten minutes to say their good byes before they had to get on. The twins, Charlie, and Bill were waiting for them near the barrier. Fred sighed and Harry glanced at him curiously. The twins then looked at him mournfully.

"It isn't going to be the same," George sighed dramatically.

"Yeah," Fred agreed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"There'll be no McGonagall to hassle us," Fred started.

"And no Hermione to spy on our doings," George said seriously.

"No Ron to embarrass us."

"No Filch to annoy us."

Then they looked thoughtful. "There will also be no students to terrorize."

"No Slytherins to horrify."

"No Hufflepuffs to agonize."

"No Ravenclaws to patronize."

Harry snorted at the alternating lines.

"We would have added Gryffindor, too, but we couldn't find anything to rhyme with 'patronize'," Fred said, looking as serious as George did. Then they broke out in identical grins.

"Do remember to owl us, Harry," George prompted. This time he really _did_ look serious.

When Harry nodded that he would indeed remember, they went off to speak with Ginny. Arthur Weasley was talking enthusiastically with Hermione about muggle software, having seen a teenage muggle girl with headphones on the sidewalk. Harry went over and waited for a pause in the discussion to interrupt.

"Hey, Mr. Weasley, may I talk with you for a moment?" he asked, trying to ignore Hermione's wide I-only-live-to-please eyes. He made a note to himself to figure out what was wrong with her later.

The older man beamed. "Of course, Harry!"

Harry led him over to an abandoned spot and leaned in. "Mr. Weasley, I was thinking over the past few weeks about my summer at the Dursleys' and I was wondering about something." When Mr. Weasley nodded, he continued. "Before I left with Tonks I accidentally used some magic. I never got a ministry owl or anything about it though. Shouldn't I have been brought to another trial?"

Mr. Weasley looked relieved that that was all Harry wanted to know. "Oh, don't worry about it, Harry. I suspect the ministry knows what's going on, but Fudge is still on tenterhooks to do the right thing. He owes you quite a lot, you know."

Harry was going to ask why, but everyone began boarding the train. Mrs. Weasley came over quickly and gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Be sure to stay out of trouble, Harry dear," she said fondly as she bustled to say good bye to the rest of her children and Hermione.

As Harry waited for them to be done he noticed a flash of blond hair in the distance. Draco Malfoy and his mother were standing in a sort of huddle, talking in hushed whispers. Harry narrowed his eyes at them. They were up to something. Then Malfoy looked up at him and cocked his head to the side, examining him. There was a shimmer of hatred in those gray eyes and Harry returned it full force before walking with Ron and Hermione to board the train. Ginny trailed behind, she seemed to be fuming.

Harry stared outside of the window, trying to conceal his fury and despair from his friends.

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron told him earnestly. "I really don't want to go, but you know I have to."

Ginny just glared off into a corner, her brand new prefect badge shining like Ron's used to. Hermione seemed momentarily confused. Her eyes were as wide as Luna Lovegood's and Harry could just _tell_ she was battling her new found urge to please, and her old steady determination to follow the rules. Ginny finally sighed and dragged the two of them off to the prefect's compartment. Ron was yelling that he would be back soon and Hermione was just letting Ginny handle her like a rag doll.

It made absolutely _no sense_. Hermione frivolous? Ron understanding? Ginny- well, actually, Ginny was acting quite normal, if not a little annoying.

Harry leaned back into the cushioned seats. There was a full plastic bag at his side. This particular bag was continuously being stared at by his friends. They wanted to know what it was but Harry wouldn't tell them. It was a surprise.

After a few moments of unrelenting silence, the compartment door swung open and a

pale pointed face poked its way in.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked automatically. To his surprise, instead of

an answer Malfoy plopped into the seat across from him.

The blond smirked at Harry's shocked expression. "What Potter, never seen someone sit down before?" He drawled with that familiar smirk still playing around his lips. Harry wanted to punch it straight off.

"I was just wondering what kind of diseases I can get with you in such close proximity," Harry drawled right back. The smirk fell off of Malfoy's face instantly and he turned pink. Soon enough, however, the smirk was back and so was his calm demeanor. Though, he still looked pink.

"Potter, Potter, Potter… Where are my manners? I haven't greeted you in the correct Malfoy way. My apologies," he said as he got up gracefully from his seat and extended a hand to Harry.

It seemed like an eerily familiar scene.

Harry shook his head, sending his messy hair all over his face. It was getting quite long now.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

Malfoy cocked his head, his eyes looking wide and innocent. "I don't believe I know what you are speaking of, Potter. I am only trying to use my manners."

Harry snorted. "Really? I wasn't aware you could _buy_ manners. I'll remember that in the future."

The other boy seemed to be trying really hard not to get angry. "Listen, Potter, I'm just trying to be civil, okay? No need for you to rub it in my face. I'll leave right now if you want me to," he shot at Harry. Harry looked startled. He soon got over it.

"Malfoy, you _hate _me and I most definitely _hate _you. We're not friends, got that? I don't like you and I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not going to ask. You can leave or stay if you want, but if you step one toe out of line, I'm going to hex your fucking face off, got it?" The words shocked Harry just as much as they did Draco. Harry rarely cursed, even when he was angry and he knew he didn't want the Slytherin for company, so why did he give Malfoy a choice in the matter?

"Why are you here, anyway?" Harry asked him, still feeling quite pissed off.

"All the other compartments are full," he answered smoothly.

"Don't you have prefect duty?"

Malfoy gave him a superior look. "I do whatever I want to do and I go where ever I want to go."

Harry snorted in disdain. "They chucked you, then."

Malfoy glowered. "I'll have you know I asked to be relieved of my duties, Potter!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "And I'm Voldemort. Get the Hell out of my face Malfoy. Go find

a Slytherin to screw over. I'm about tired of you **_stalking_** me." He made sure he put a strong emphasis on the word "stalking".

Malfoy's breath hitched and his face went from shock, to confusion, to pure anger in less than a minute. "I _do not _stalk you, Potter! I'll let you know that it's you that stalks _me!_"

Harry could have laughed if he wasn't so angry. "Excuse me, Malfoy? I'm not the one following you around since _first bloody year. WHY _would I stalk you? It's not like I _WANT _to see your ferrety face around! I'd rather eat flobberworms then hear your whiny voice or see your ugly face EVER AGAIN!"

Malfoy held up his wand, his teeth bared and Harry did the same. A small, reasonable voice told him to back off and calm down, but he wasn't listening to that voice anymore. That was when somebody crashed open the door. Ginevra Weasley strode in looking scandalized. She whirled on Harry first and gave him a death glare to suit Snape himself.

"I don't want to know what has been going on," she said quietly. "And I don't much care, come to think of it. I just know you two better shut _your bloody mouths _and put those wands _away_ before I curse both of you senseless, got it?" She growled, suddenly seeming more like an angered lioness than the cat Harry usually compares her with.

The two boys nodded dumbly and she stalked out, her robes billowing out behind her dramatically. Harry wanted to ask if she had been taking lessons from Professor Snape, but decided to keep his mouth closed. He and Malfoy looked at each other. Harry felt the familiar anger filling up inside of him and hissed, "Get the fuck out of my sight, Malfoy."

And surprisingly, Malfoy did.

"Hullo there, Harry." A familiar voice said a few moments later.

Luna Lovegood entered the compartment. Her eyes were wide but Harry found he liked it much more on her than he did Hermione. She had on her school robes already and she looked a little taller than she did last June.

"Hey Luna," Harry smiled. His anger receded quickly.

She smiled back and sat next to him. There was a painful silence for a few moments in which Harry stared at floor.

"Oh," he thought, remembering. "I've gotten something for you!"

Harry took up the plastic bag and started rustling through it. Luna watched him, through her permanently surprised look Harry could tell she wasn't really surprised at all. He found what he was looking for and pulled it out. It had a light, white silver chain and held a pendant of sorts. It was a raven's claw clutching a crystal ball. Inside the ball seemed to be swirling fog and the occasional sparkle. Harry held it out to her, watching her take it up and examine it. Luna seemed pleased.

"It's supposed to give its wearer an aura of knowledge," he supplied.

Luna nodded. "I know."

Harry felt that she was very intelligent, she just couldn't be taken seriously because of what people felt while they were around her. It was also supposed to gain concentration skills and have a few well placed protection charms on it. Harry said none of this. He was sure Luna already knew what it was and what it did, he was also sure she knew of the cost. And it cost quite a lot.

The compartment door slid open to find Ron, followed by Ginny and Hermione.

"Can you put this on for me Harry?" Luna asked, unclasping her butterbeer necklace.

Harry nodded and placed the thin chain around her neck, then he gently pushed her hair to the side and clasped it. It was smooth and fluid. He spent a lot of time doing that on himself with his _own_ necklace.

The three greeted Luna and Ginny seemed to be grinding her teeth. "Harry, did you buy that for her?" As she asked this her voice was extraordinarily calm. Too calm.

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded. Seeing her eyes flash he quickly added, "I got something for you as well."

Ginny looked dumbfounded. Harry pulled out a gold bracelet for her. It had small moving charms on it. There was a wand that let out sparks, a few kittens stretching about, a broom stick that promised to fly right back into the owners arm if someone stole it or they lost it, and even a dragon blowing a bit of gold smoke out of its nose. He handed it to her and as she examined it, her mouth was agape. For some reason, Ginny suddenly looked guilty.

"It has protection spells, relocating spells, luck charms, and its supposed to lift your mood," Harry informed her lightly. "Oh, and-"

He tapped the broom once with his wand and it immediately flew onto Ginny's right arm and clasped itself. Ginny looked pleased as well as a little disappointed. "Thank you so much, Harry," she said while grinning at him for the first time in weeks. Harry grinned back, hoping everything was normal between them again.

He dug into his bag again and tossed it to Ron. Ron blanched. "Really mate, I don't think I want a bracelet or a necklace. You cankeep it."

Harry snorted. "Look at it, Ron."

Ron did and his eyes nearly bulged out of their head. It was a gold pin shaped as a crown. Their were rubies at the tips and it had "King Weasley" inscribed in it. It that wasn't enough, under that it said "Keeper". Everyone in the compartment stared at it, waiting for Ron's reaction. He looked up shakily and grateful. "Thank you, mate." And Harry could tell that this pin meant the world to him just then.

Luna looked interested. "Aren't those types of pins supposed to put an aura of royalty around whoever wears it? Doesn't it also have good fortune and good luck spells complete with leprechaun and goblin charms?"

Harry nodded, still watching Ron's reaction. Ron swallowed. "Harry, I mean it, thanks a lot." His ears turned a brilliant shade of pink.

Harry smiled. "Anytime."

Luna gave him a very solemn look as if to say "That cost quite a lot."

Harry ignored this and got out the next-to-last gift. It was a ring. He tossed it to Hermione and she stared, open mouthed, at it. It was silver and had a light blue stone on it. It was a simple beauty, Whitehall had said. Perfect for engagements and friends alike.

"It has very strong protection charms," Harry started, but Luna knew a few things about the ring as well.

"It shows a deep love for the person it is given to. Not only romantic love but it can be platonic love as well. It has numerous protection charms-some of the strongest and can fight any harmful magic to an extent." She started ticking them off on her fingers. "This includes love potions, the Imperius curse (though not very well at all), poisons (stops weak ones, slows down strong ones), and anything harmful to the wearer's system. Really," she ended, "it's one of the strongest pieces of protection jewelry one could find. For the exception of a few others, and they are all usually used for an engagement and are stronger if the two people are in love."

Everyone stared at her in shock. Shesounded almost like the old Hermione, counting facts on her fingertips. The real Hermione only looked pleased and stared at it on her finger. Ron looked uncomfortable. The compartment was silent for quite some time. Then Luna began reading her new issue of the Quibbler and that sent Ginny to bring out Crookshanks and play with him, which brought Ron to take a game of exploding snap out and play with Harry. Hermione just stared out the window, looking confused. Nobody seemed to notice this but Harry.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, here's a nice long Harry centric chapter for ya ;) Draco's up next, so no worries for you rabid Malfoy fans! I wanted to know what you guys think is up with Hermione, though. It'd be interesting to hear your views! Oh, and the new chapters should start to get longer-maybe even as long as this one. Which is almost twenty pages, and usually it is ten. I hope you enjoyed it and remember- reviews feed my muse and make me update faster!**


	9. The Mission Begins

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, suckas. XD**

**Shards Of A Diamond**

_**7/05 by Emerald Riddle**_

**Chapter Nine: The Mission Begins**

_This is the year where hope fails you_

_The test subjects run the experiments_

_And the bastards you know, is the hero you hate_

_But chousing is possible if we strive_

_There's no reason, there's no lesson_

_No time like the present, telling you right now_

_What have you got to lose, what have you got to lose_

_Except your soul... who's with us!_

The Pulse Of The Maggots by Slipknot

_**--..--..--**_

_Potter, Draco thought seethingly, is an **asshole. **_

He left the compartment in a huff, not wanting to damage his mission further. It was ridiculous, really, how Potter reacted. He was just trying to be _civil._ Sure, he would ultimately try to kill him and get his revenge- but Potter _didn't know that_. The only conclusion Draco could come to was that Potter was simply just naturally rude.

He frowned. How was he supposed to look inconspicuous while following Potter around when they couldn't even be in the same room without hexing each other? The Dark Lord was right- he _couldn't_ be friends with him.

_At least not easily._

Being "friends" with Potter was the best way to spy on him and make it seem natural, but it would take a lot of work. Months, weeks at the very least. It would take scheming and plotting and even more spying than necessary… but it would be worth it. Oh, would it be worth it! Just to see Potter's face as he is betrayed by someone he came to trust! Draco could not help but let a malicious looking grin slide onto his face.

He walked over to a compartment and slid the door open with confidence. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle waited for him.

"Draco," Pansy immediately squealed and ran into his arms. She tilted her head back to peck him on the lips.

"Hello, Pansy," He greeted, trying to conceal his sneer.

She led him over to the seats across from Crabbe and Goyle and nearly sat on his lap. There was silence for a few moments; Draco was unsure of what to say. Should he gloat about his new accomplishments? Should he rave about starting to learn the Unforgivables?

"I got a hair cut," he said smoothly.

_Idiot._

Pansy blinked at his unchanged looking hair. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the compartment door opening. Blaise Zabini strode in, his customary calm look on his face and leaned against the wall.

"Hello Pansy, Draco." He completely ignored Crabbe and Goyle.

_Not that they possessed the brains to know that, Draco thought sneeringly as he nodded his head in recognition to Blaise._

_Blaise. He was admirable. Forever seeming calmness, all business, no simple-minded chat or frivolous gossip could ever come from him. Everything hr said had a reason behind it. He was the epitome of Slytherin cool, only seconding in respect to Theodore Nott. And that didn't add the fact that he was good-looking. Handsome, many girls thought. Draco was forced to agree with them. _

"So, Draco," Blaise said as he sat down. "There is a lot of talk going around about this past summer."

Draco tried to appear nonchalant and shrugged.

Blaise raised an amused eyebrow. "About you. And they're not only about how often Ms. Parkinson over here has been visiting you."

_Shit, Draco thought. The Parkinsons and his mother were already working out the details for his arranged marriage. It was a long time coming, and he was expected to purpose around his seventh year. Seeing as this was the beginning of his sixth, it was hard to be pleased._

When Draco remained silent, he continued. "There are also rumors about a certain _mark_ on your arm."

Pansy gasped at the obvious accusation and Crabbe's and Goyle's eyes even widened a fraction. Draco's breath hitched, but as he maintained eye contact with Blaise, he worked to keep his facial features impassive.

"You should know out of all people, Zabini, that some rumors should stay just as that- _rumors._"

Blaise's lips (which, Draco noted, were shaped rather well) formed a thin line and he narrowed his eyes. The jab at his mother was one he could have done without.

"Besides," Draco continued before the other boy could respond. "I have no marks on my arms of particular value, and even if I did, it would be very unwise of you to speculate about such things."

The threat was veiled, but it was there and Zabini didn't broach the topic further.

What Draco said was the truth. There _was_ no mark on his arm. At least not yet. He was due to get it around the Christmas holiday. Pansy leaned against him and lay her head on his lap lazily. She smiled dreamily at Blaise and Draco started to wonder if she was silently gloating or actually had a thing for the dark looking boy.

Mentally shrugging, he found he didn't much care. They were due to get married no matter what, and if she wanted to be stupid enough to waste her time fancying somebody else, she could go right ahead for all he cared.

"Draco," Blaise started, his voice with a twinge of wariness and something else Draco couldn't recognize. "Many people are conjecturing as to why you gave up your prefect post. Everyone thought you were a shoe-in for Head Boy."

That was a lie. Everyone thought the exact opposite. _Why are you trying to charm me, Blaise?_ Draco wondered to himself, feeling slightly alarmed at the other boy's go at manipulation.

"I hadn't the time for walking about, taking points from snotty first years. I'd much rather be doing something _productive_ in my last years at Hogwarts."

Pansy beamed at him.

"Oh, yeah? You never had a problem with it before," Blaise replied snappishly. Draco had the sudden thought that he wasn't mad at his response, but Pansy's.

Draco sneered and tangled his fingers in her hair. Pansy beamed again, but Draco kept his eyes on Blaise.

"Things change, Blaise. People change. I had fun while it lasted but now I have more important priorities," he said, eyeing Blaise's new prefect badge. Then he leaned over Pansy and kissed her, just for the hell of it.

When he looked back up, the other boy was glowering.

_How odd of him to display so many emotions in one day. Girls make fools of even the most respectable, I suppose._

But Theodore Nott, he knew, wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

The rest of the trip went slowly. They ate a bit when the trolley came around, and chatted here and there about the school and new hexes. It was all very boring and Draco found that he wanted to get on with his mission as soon as possible. It was hard to refuse the urge to waltz back into Potter's compartment and stay no matter what any of them said or did.

_It would certainly be a learning experience, he thought, snickering._

_**--..--..--**_

As the train slid to a halt Draco jumped out of his seat started rummaging through his trunk. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy waited patiently for him. Blaise just left, looking back at the couple and narrowing his eyes. Draco waved them off and said he would meet them later. Pansy looked worried, Crabbe and Goyle just looked stupid. They left, leaving Draco holding up his invisibility cloak and smirking widely.

_**--..--..--**_

Draco swept into the carriage just as Weasley's robes disappeared inside. Granger was sitting next to him with a glazed, confused look on her face. It made Draco wonder if the Dark Lord had an Imperius put on her; possibly to watch him. He settled in a corner on Potter's side, making sure his cloak covered his feet before relaxing.

Potter was sitting stiffly, he noted, and was constantly pulling on his sleeves. Under his school robes were muggle clothes with long sleeves, also.

_Thick-headed slob must be burning up, he mused._

Just before the carriage took off a red head poked into view.

_Weaselette, he thought, regarding her._

She smiled brightly at Harry and sat next to him, chatting away. Draco struggled to hear some of her words.

"…have all healed then?"

Potter hesitated, then nodded. He was still acting stiffly and uncomfortably. "It was good that your father healed the rest of my face. I wouldn't want to know what the Slytherins would do with material like that."

_Material like what?_

Weaselette nodded solemnly. "Yeah. He would have done it in the first place, you know, you just never asked."

Potter's eyes widened suddenly and he shot a look at Granger. She opened her mouth to say something, then appeared to forget what it was, and the confused, but happy, look fell onto her face once again. It was most disturbing. Potter's eyebrows creased and Draco suddenly understood just _how _paranoid Potter was.

_He's a lot skinnier than last year, he thought feeling mildly surprised. He wasn't aware that people could be skinnier than Potter was a few months ago. But by the jutting bones in his wrist and the way his skin was beginning to become translucent, he was. Draco concluded that he just wanted to look fit for his fans, and went a bit too far._

_Really, Potter, it's called diet potions and exercise, not starving yourself stupid. Ah well, I suppose you couldn't get any thicker even if you tried. In fact, Weaselette doesn't seem to mind your boniness at all._

In fact, the Weasley girl was positively _beaming _at him. To untrained eyes one couldn't see her adoration, but Draco did and he was disgusted. Honestly, it was so _obvious _that she was just fawning over him because of his resident hero and celebrity status. Didn't Potter see that? She didn't love him! She loved his image!

_An image decidedly fake, Draco silently snorted in his head._

Before long, the carriage was slowing down and Draco needed to curl himself up so that none of the Gryffindors would bump into him and decide something was amiss. As he saw the Weaselette's famous mane of red hair swing out of view he pulled off his cloak and followed them from a distance. Granger was unusually quiet and the Weasel was almost _too _cheerful. He grabbed her arm and smirked gloatingly, at least _that_ made sense. Potter was subdued. He trailed behind them and stared determinedly at the stone floor of the Entry Hall.

_What's wrong with Potter?_

The female Weasel was nowhere to be seen.

The blond dully noted Pansy at his side and asking him where he had been and him automatically answering with "Nowhere." She looked at him suspiciously, which was strange in itself, but accepted the answer none-the-less. He still kept his eyes on Potter. It was interesting how much Potter changed as he strode into the Great Hall. His face brightened and a weird expression passed over his face… relief?

_Why would he feel relieved?_

It was another question that needed to be answered. Another goal in his mission.

A mission that was suddenly beginning to seem endless.

Suddenly Draco realized he was alone. Pansy was no longer by his side, in fact, she was walking towards the dungeons with Zabini tailing her. Even as he watched, she grabbed a handful of his robes and pulled him into a dark corner. Draco's eyes widened, then narrowed. Pansy was betraying him _and _his mother! Didn't she care what her parents would _say?_

_But, _he thought, a smile stretching over his features and scaring a few second years filing past him, _I could get myself out of this marriage with a scandal this large. I just need to catch them in the act._

Draco took out his wand and snuck over to where he saw Pansy taking Blaise. He went unnoticed as dozens of students milled around him. Soon he was walking in the stone clad dungeon floor, making sure he made no sound as his dragon hide books hit the cobblestones. Voices were in the distance and he kept walking. He soon remembered his invisibility cloak and swept it around him.

"…Pansy?" Blaise asked sounding slightly annoyed.

Draco brought out his wand and murmured a spell under his breath. "_Vox persigno_." The tip of his wand illuminated a crimson red.

"I'll tell you what I want!" yelled Pansy, her voice trembling in fury, much to Draco's surprise.

"What I want is for you to stay away from my future husband!"

Draco blinked stupidly.

_Eh?_

Before Blaise could utter a word, Pansy stepped closer to him. "He's mine, Zabini, back off."

There was a minute of silence before-

"It's his choice, Parkinson. He's not married to you _yet. _I'm sure if he was to choose me, his mother would be more than happy-"

"This is not about wealth, Zabini!" Pansy screeched, her voice meeting a new high to which few humans and many dogs could probably hear.

_Explains a lot, Draco thought, looking at her pug nose._

"It's about respect and blood!" she continued, still screeching furiously.

Blaise gave her an eerie smile after wincing at the sound of her voice. "Everything is about wealth, Parkinson. Everything."

"If I want Draco and I have the proper funds and family heritage, then I could easily have him." But he hesitated after that.

"…But he needs to want you back," Pansy finished triumphantly. She looked positively gleeful. "And he _doesn't _want you back, does he _Blaise? _He wants me! He has always wanted me and now he's going to _get_ me!"

Blaise looked disgusted. Draco agreed wholeheartedly with the gesture.

"He doesn't want you! Who in their right mind could want _you?"_

Again, Draco agreed with Blaise.

A resounding _Clap! _told Draco Pansy had smacked him across the face.

A few moments passed before she finally replied. It was one of the most cruel whispers he had ever heard her utter.

"And who in their right mind would want a pouf with a gold-digging _whore_ of a mother? Draco sure as hell _wouldn't_."

They both stood facing each other, fuming. Draco could tell this was either going to end soon or they were going to start sending curses. He wouldn't want to be stuck there in case of either, so he hurriedly muttered "_Dirimo Persigno" _and hurried off to dinner.

Just before he got out of the dungeons he remembered to whisk off his cloak and stuff it in his pocket. He could hear McGonagall talking to the first years nearby, so he rushed into the Great Hall and took his seat beside Crabbe and Goyle. They looked at him stupidly as he bit the inside of his cheek and thought.

_Okay, Blaise is a pouf and he wants me. He doesn't want Pansy, but she knows he wants me and now she's trying to get him away. And then there's Potter who wants to hex my face off, with the Dark Lord who'll-_

He shuddered.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco moaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. When had his life become so ungodly complicated?

A few minutes later, Pansy showed up and commanded Goyle to "move the fuck over _right now"_ and sat next to him. Blaise sneered at her sat across from Draco. Draco stared at him.

_He wants me._

Pansy began talking, her mood supposedly lightened by having her "future husband" by her side. He pretended to be listening while he was really examining Blaise.

_He wants me._

_Me._

_A boy. _

Draco couldn't get it out of his head that another boy _wanted_ him, _wanted _to be _married_ to him, none-the-less! It was mind numbing. Draco looked over at Blaise again.

_And he's good looking, too. _

Then…

_What if I wanted him back?_

Blaise glanced at him and raised his eyebrows at Pansy's constant gibber.

_What if I wanted him back? What would it be like to "be" with a guy? What it be like to kiss him, to date him, to have sex with him? What if I didn't have to stare at Pansy's face when I got married? What if it was a boys'? Would I choose a good looking guy over an ugly girl?_

Looking between them, Draco had to say, _yes._

_Yes, I would. Does that mean I'm gay?_

Then another realization-

_It makes so much sense now. Blaise wasn't jealous of me, he was jealous of Pansy. Draco has the sudden strange desire to laugh. And this summer, when I was staring at Pansy's father, Adonis, I was attracted to him!_

_But does that mean…_

_That I'm gay?_

Somebody was tugging on his robes. It was Pansy.

"Draco, darling, aren't you going to eat?" she asked him in a disgustingly sweet voice.

He looked at her accusingly (_You made me gay!) _before realizing that the sorting had already begun and finished, and that there were now plates upon plates of food on the four house tables. He went to pick up some potatoes and his hand brushed another's. Blaise's. Draco's hand twitched and he felt the heat rise up in his face as Blaise winked at him. Pansy saw this. She glared at Blaise and took it upon herself to serve Draco all his food that night.

Draco ate little. His mind was wandering from one thing to another at a rapid rate. First to Pansy, then to Blaise, then to his sexual preferences (or if he had any at all), then his mind somehow ended up with Potter and how the _hell_ was he ever going to complete his mission?

He was most unsatisfactory in keeping his appetite during the Welcoming Feast.

But Draco had a job to do, who needed food? He could always go down to the kitchens later. Instead of eating he sought out Potter at the Gryffindor table. He was grinning at his friends and picking at his plate. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite, either. What he did seem to do a lot, and Draco was beginning to get peeved by it, was tug at his sleeves.

_For Gods sake! What the hell is he trying to do? Trying to make sure the Weaselette doesn't crawl up his robes? Potter, you're a moron._

The mudblood Granger was staring at the ceiling in awe, a dreamy wide-eyed look on her face. It made Draco desperately want to smack her with his Nimbus. What the hell were those Gryffindors on? Floo powder?

During his rage and shock, he just barely noticed that Dumbledore had risen to give his yearly speech. All the food disappeared from the plates and even from the small morsel of pudding on Draco's spoon.

_Finally going to announce that you're now shagging students in exchange for Lemon Drops? Or maybe it's the other way around… Oh! I know! You're selling the Golden Boy for five Cockroach Custards a night! What a wonderful deal!_

His scowling, sarcastic thoughts were relentless. Some frankly ridiculous while others were bluntly vicious. But with the way the world was suddenly acting, he felt they deserved every seething remark. Still, he tuned in to the Headmaster's speech when an unknown adult stood up, dressed in a dark traveling cloak with a hood covering his facial features.

"… So I would like to introduce you to our new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody."

Everyone's head immediately swiveled toward the stooped figure who was now lowering his hood and all that remembered him from two years previous gasped. Whispers immediately broke out, and while Draco stared at his new professor, he felt something that tasted suspiciously like bile rise in his throat.

"Draco Malfoy," Weasley yelled out laughingly. "The Amazing Bouncing Ferret shall return!"

The Gryffindors roared with laughter, and so did most of the Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws. He heard a Slytherin snort, and was consequently quieted with a death glare.

"Yes, yes, that will be all Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, his eyes were twinkling madly and the students stopped talking instantly. "Professor Moody will be staying with us for the remainder of term, then he will be going back to his quiet retirement."

More talk broke out at this news, louder this time. Draco understood why. A teacher staying for only a term? Ridiculous! Why apply at all? But then again, the fall term was the longest. He wondered briefly who was going to take the job after Moody left.

The Headmaster went on to say that, as always, the Forbidden forest was just that, Forbidden (even as he smiled benignly at his golden boy). He also announced that that everything from the Weasley Wizard Wheezes were banned on Caretaker Filch's list. Draco snorted. As if that ever stopped anyone.

"But the one thing I want you to remember most of all," Dumbledore said solemnly, "is that you need to stick together. Lord Voldemort is back, as so many of you should now know, and if we don't stay strong and reach out to others we normally don't, then we might not have another chance."

Draco didn't understand nor care what the Headmaster said that day. One day he might wish he did.

Everyone was getting up to leave. The prefects all called to their house members to whisper the password or escort confused first years to their house. Blaise brushed by Draco and grabbed him by the arm. "The password is 'house unity'," he whispered. Draco trembled slightly at the sensation of a pair of lips near his ear. He had no time to contemplate it, however, as Pansy roughly dragged him away.

_**--..--..--**_

It was dark in the dorm room. Draco sealed his curtains around his bed and cast a privacy charm around it. Then he settled down on his bed with his wand in hand. He brought the tip toward his mouth.

"_Vox Audio."_

The tip of his wand shone a light blue and suddenly sounds erupted from it.

"_**I'll tell you what I want!" **_

"_**What I want is for you to stay away from my future husband!"**_

It was Pansy's voice, filled with fury and sounding screechy.

"_**He's mine, Zabini, back off."**_

Then Blaise's voice cut in. His voice was smooth, mocking, and had a hint of a challenge in it.

"_**It's his choice, Parkinson. He's not married to you yet. I'm sure if he was to choose me, his mother would be more than happy-"**_

_My mother would be more than happy, Draco realized with a start._

"_**This is not about wealth, Zabini!" **_

Pansy was wrong. In fact, the whole point to the marriage arrangement between them was about wealth.

"_**It's about respect and blood!"**_

She was only a little correct there. It was always easy to buy respect and cover your bloodlines. It really was all about the money, actually.

"_**Everything is about wealth, Parkinson. Everything."**_

Draco respected the fact that Blaise was so blunt with the truth. He didn't hide behind delusions like Pansy did, he worked out what he wanted and found the best way to get it.

_He wants me._

_He wants my family name._

_He wants my money._

_But he also wants me._

Draco was seriously considering it. Should he take Zabini? Give up one fiancé for another? _I'll ride him out, _he decided. If he didn't like Blaise, or being gay, he'll just drop it and never look back.

If only it was that easy.

The sound of a voice muttering **_"Dirimo Persigno" _**made Draco realize he missed the last of the conversation and he mentally berated himself for his constant drifting away. He found that ever since the summer, he been doing it increasingly.

Draco yawned and took off the enchantments from his bed. He was tired and he knew he probably had a long day ahead of him tomorrow.

_**--..--..--**_

_Draco Malfoy sat on the cold, stone floor of the dungeon. He had a wand out and the tip was an almost blinding shade of red. Gryffindor red. Harry Potter was next to him, smiling. Draco thought it very odd for Potter to be smiling, but it was also somehow… nice. It was nice to be smiled at by a hero. By a popular good-guy hero._

_But soon the smile turned into a scowl and Potter was pointing at Draco's wand and yelling furiously. Then something strange happened. Draco's face fell off._

_Pansy was suddenly sitting in front of him, holding the dislocated face in her hands and beaming. She had a huge diamond ring on one of her fingers and she was saying that he had to love her if he gave her that ring. That the ring would protect her so much more if he loved her. But then she dropped the face onto the floor and looked dangerous. _

_She was saying that he didn't love her. That he was bribing her. She was saying that he loved Snape, that he only protected Snape and that he was hiding inside the ring. She threw the ring to the floor and Snape burst out from the shattered pieces. He hugged Pansy for a moment before rounding on Draco. He said when a diamond engagement ring broke, he loved another person, and he only wanted to protect **that person** with the ring's ancient powers. He betrayed the person he was promised to!_

_Draco spoke for the first time and asked who he loved if he didn't love Pansy. Snape sneered coldly at him and gave him his face back._

"_Yourself."_

_**--..--..--**_

Draco woke up in a cold sweat. Wet tendrils of hair was plastered to his face and his pajamas stuck to his body uncomfortably. It was most unpleasant. He waited a few moments, the dream still buzzing around in his brain. The panic and horror slowly dwindled and he got out of bed shakily.

"Hello, Draco," a voice from behind him calmly greeted.

Draco couldn't help it, he jumped.

"Oh. Hello, Blaise. Up a little early, aren't we?" Draco asked, trying to get the upper hand.

The dark haired boy merely shrugged. His eyes were traveling up and down his length. "Nightmare?" he asked. There was no concern in that voice, but no mocking tone either.

Draco just blinked, trying to regain his composure.

"Happens to the best of us," he said smoothly, looking slightly interested in Draco's current mussed state.

Draco sneered. "It was nothing, Zabini. Actually, not such a _bad_ dream as one that just _took a lot out of me._"

He then stretched, making sure his pajama shirt rose enough so that a patch of pale skin was clearly visible under his navel.

Blaise swallowed, staring at the spot even after it was recovered by the silk shirt.

Draco smirked at him, yawned, and went off to take a shower. As much fun as it was teasing Blaise, it was all still rather strange to him. He suppose he should take it slow.

The dream was forgotten in the rush to get ready for the first day of term

_**--..--..--**_

"Ooohhh! Draco! I have your timetable!" Pansy exclaimed, shoving it under his nose.

During the summer all the students going to sixth year had to pick out which classes they wanted and which they didn't. Draco didn't find the decisions very difficult. He took up potions, of course, which he got an "O" in. He also took up Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against The Dark Arts. He dropped Care of Magical Creatures (useless, in his opinion) and History of Magic (too boring). After some thought he took up Astronomy and Herbology, which could seriously help in Potions and make it easier and more second nature to him. (It was his mother's decision, obviously.)

Pansy took most of the same classes as him, for the exception of Defense and Potions, because she was useless atthem and failed both. She also kept up with Divination, which Draco never thought was worth taking in the first place (even after she had begged him to take it up every chance she got).

"We have Charms this morning," Blaise read off of Draco's timetable behind his back.

Draco stiffened. What the hell was he doing sneaking back there?

"We have most of the same classes," he went on. "Only I have History of Magic and Arithmancy. I was really thinking about dropping Charms, but it has its uses occasionally."

Draco stared at him. Since when did Blaise become such a chatterbox?

A black eagle owl suddenly swooped down toward him, a letter clutched in its razor sharp talons. It landed gracefully on the table in front of Draco and extended its leg. Dracotook the letter and it immediately flew off. Everyone stared at him. Snape's black piercing gaze especially. Draco quickly shovedthe letterinto his robes and told Blaise and Pansy that they should be getting to class.

The two nodded, Blaise was looking suspicious and Draco didn't like it. Crabbe and Goyle followed them off to class. _How_ they managed to pass boggled Draco. _Probably cheated, _he mused. The more he thought of it the more sense it made that they cheated using _his_ work. They both had the same classes as him, after all.He smirked. Maybe they weren't as stupid as some people thought.

He noticed that Potter was walking behind him with Granger and Weasley. It seemed he would have yet another opportunity to spy on the Boy-Who-Lived and his little Gryffindor fans. Draco smirked before remembering the letter in his pocket. It seemed to burn a hole into his side. He would have to read it later, and find a safe place to do so at that. But where?

* * *

**A/N: I've had this written for hours, but decided to be a right eejit during the whole "edit document" period. Bugger. Anyhow, I wanted this chapter to be longer, but I felt I drew it out enough. As sick of Harry as many of you probably are, his part in the story is really very important at the moment. I did miss writing Draco, though. I wrote that snark like I was starving ;D Yes, a lot of it is corny. Sorry. I'll need to get over that. **

**Now, as for reviews... I like hearing random thoughts and silly theories. It doesn't matter, really. I'm beginning to get a bit put out by the number of reviews, though. I've seen stories less well written than this, in their second chapter, and only a few paragraphs long get more reviews than this entire story. Sad, eh? Yeah. I know. I wouldn't mind a few people explaining why, though I have a few theories of my own. **

**Zesty: _Aw, thanks for the wonderful review ;) Yes, longer chapters. It's definitely going to be around fifteen pages now instead of ten. Give or take a few. For instance, this one is only about fourteen while the other was what... eighteen? Piers. Hmmm. I have a few plans for Piers, yes. Not letting that go quite yet, though. Haha, I thought that was a great line too. Couldn't resist, even if it was sorta OOC._**

**Silver Angel 7: _Yeah, I've always been planning the gift-giving scene. I don't think Harry will notice any huge changes in his vault, but I can tell you that he should probably be more careful. Galleons don't grow on trees. Not evenin the wizarding world. Yes, the ring is quite strange, isn't it? You'll be learning more about it soon enough, though, I can't say all the information will be strictly coming from Whitehall. Ah. Hermione. I miss writing her. I think her personality is shoving itsway through Blaise and Luna though. Heh. So very like her. Well, you're close, I'llgive you that. I find it strange that nobody has guessed the real reason by now, though._**

**Devil's Sporn:** **_Thanks! Hmmm... I don't believe Luna has yet to realize Ginny's jealousy. She knows a lot, but she hasn't been around much, admittedly. As for Ginny being jealous of the ring... I think she realized a few things since the train ride. You'll understand later, hopefully._**

**Touya4me: _I'm still trying to get over how much your penname is so much like my natural surname. Quite strange, really. Anyway, thanks! I hope this was soon enough for you!_**

**SylvarThorne:** **_I think it's great that you read it through. Pleases me a lot that somebody would use a chunk of their day to read one of my stories. Very flattering. Thank you! Your wish is my command ;)_**

**Let me also point out to all readers that this is a Draco chapter, so it is filled with his biased, childish opinions and assumptions. He's an arse. Get over it. Take it how you wish. If you want to believe Ginny is hero-worshipping Harry because Draco says so, go ahead. Things will be fixed in future chapters (though not all of his brain, sadly), I promise you. And yes, I do love Draco. I love him because- well, we shan't get into that, shall we? **


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